Papa Bear's List
by Tuttle4077
Summary: A response to another challenge. Hehe... Papa Bear contacts London with his shopping list. Just the usual: ammunition, dynamite... peanuts?
1. Peanuts

Howdy folks. It's challenge time. Last time I rose to a challenge from Sayla Ragnarok- Hogan's Menagerie. Today, I shall attempt a real doozy posed by Hubbles. Here's how she posted the challenge- The Real Mavis McCoy Challenge. A challenge to step away from the multitude of fictional twins and assorted siblings, and use the only relative of Newkirk's (or any of the guys as far as I know) to be mentioned by name on the show.

So, here you go. Park your brain at the door and have fun.

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PAPA BEAR'S LIST

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It was a typical spring day in London. The sweet smell of flowers mingled with the stench of the busy, bombed out city. Birds sang somewhere overhead, doing their part to dispel the gloom felt by the war-weary citizens. A few blocks over, the road was roped off to keep anyone from getting too close to an unexploded bomb. Children chased each other round the rubble of a crumbled building, laughing and giggling. It was an odd mix- such happiness amidst such sadness.

Scrunching her nose and keeping her eyes down, Mavis Newkirk picked her way through the rubble that littered the sidewalk. It was a dangerous task just walking to work now days. Nevertheless, it was only a few blocks more and she was a soldier of Her Majesty's army; she could make it. Checking her watch, she quickened her step, nearly slipping a few times before her destination came into view.

She stopped at the entrance and straightened her brown jacket and skirt. It wouldn't do to look like a ruddy slob when she entered the High Command HQ. The glass on the door offered little reflection, but she managed to make herself presentable before entering the building.

"Afternoon Private," she greeted warmly as she walked up to the front desk. The corporal nodded and handed her a clipboard. She signed it and headed towards the elevator.

The operator greeted her with a thin smile. "Floor?"

"Down two levels," she informed him. The elevator whirred and jerked. Mavis hated elevators, but kept her head. She was grateful when the doors opened and she stepped out.

Another sentry stopped her and made her sign in before letting her pass. She had to pass two more before she finally made it into the radio room.

Stopping at the entrance of the room, Mavis poured herself a mug of coffee before heading to her station. She briefly glanced at the reports scattered in front of her.

"Nothing interesting there Corporal." Mavis nearly jumped out of her skin and whirled around.

"Blimey! Don't do that Captain," she gasped.

"Sorry old girl," Captain Sinclair said with a tiny smirk, "didn't mean to scare you." He moved closer and leaned against her desk. "Enjoy your weekend?"

"Course. I received a letter from me-" she stopped herself and tried again- "my brother." A regular Eliza Doolittle, she'd worked hard to rid herself of her Cockney accent and way of speaking, but sometimes she slipped.

"Ah yes. He's a POW is he not?" Mavis nodded, thinking back to the letter. It'd been short and semisweet- Peter wasn't one for sentiment. It'd been the same as every letter he'd sent to her, as few as they were. He missed her and England and couldn't wait to get home. But until then, he was surviving and there was no need to worry about him. It didn't help; she still worried about him and would always worry until her big brother came home.

Captain Sinclair suddenly cleared his throat and went to his desk. "We're expecting a communiqué from Papa Bear anytime."

Mavis tried to hide her scowl. She'd forgotten it was the beginning of the month. Their agent in Germany, Papa Bear, would be sending them his 'shopping list' for the month. That in itself wouldn't have been so bad, but the demands he made were utterly outrageous.

Suddenly, her radio came to life. Well, speak of the devil. "Papa Bear to Goldilocks, come in Goldilocks."

Mavis slipped on her headphone and grabbed her mike. "This is Goldilocks, go ahead Papa Bear," she said to the disembodied voice. American of course. Papa Bear had to be American. There was no way anyone British would be part of that particular underground organization. Not because they weren't brave enough, they just weren't crazy enough.

"Grandma's feeling poorly. We need a basket of goodies for her."

Mavis rolled her eyes. Blimey, who made up these ridiculous codes? Whoever it was sure wasn't going to get a medal for originality. Oh well, it wasn't her place to question the codes, she just used them.

Grabbing a pen and notepad, she prepared herself for Papa Bear list. "Go ahead Papa Bear. Did the doctor give you a prescription?" she asked, bracing herself for the absurd demands she knew were coming.

"Sure did. Let's see: ammonium hydroxide, ammunition, antibiotics-" Was he putting this in alphabetical order?! For some reason that just annoyed her. Well, at least they were basic. Nothing outrageous… yet. "Boots- size 10, dynamite, a football, paper, snow shoes-" Snow shoes?! No, no, she wasn't going to argue with that one. Ridiculous though it was, especially in the Spring, it wasn't _that _crazy. She was curious as to what they would need snow shoes for, but she wasn't going to loose any sleep over it. Though she didn't know the particulars of Papa Bear's organization- it was on a need to know basis and she didn't- she knew he'd pulled off some crazy and bizarre things. She briefly wondered if she'd ever know what went on there.

"Thermometers," Papa Bear continued. Mavis raised an eyebrow. ? No… she wasn't going to question it; that wasn't her job. She just relayed messages. "Peanuts-"

"Excuse me? Peanuts?" Not only was that stupid, but it was out of order. Peanuts should've been after paper.

"Doctor's orders," came the nonchalant American voice.

"Peanuts," Mavis repeated, just to clarify.

"Peanuts."

"Anything else Papa Bear?"

"Well, if it isn't too much trouble, Grandma could sure use some new Tommy Dorsey records."

"We'll see what we can do Papa Bear. I'll relay your list and reply in ten minutes. Over and out."

Sighing, Mavis slumped in her chair and slipped off her headset. "Papa Bear gave me his list."

"Unusual?" Captain Sinclair snickered.

"Only because it wasn't unusual. I mean, except for the snow shoes… and the peanuts."

"Peanuts?" Sinclair repeated.

"Yes, peanuts," Mavis confirmed. "Captain, tell me, is Papa Bear crazy?"

Sinclair laughed. "He's completely mad. But he's also out finest agent. Those lads have pulled off some of the greatest stunts of the war. Quite amazing really."

"I should like to meet him one day, after the war."

Sinclair hid a smile. "You just might Mavis, my dear. You just might."

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Aw, Mavis... doesn't even know...

And what exactly is Hogan going to use peanuts for? Who knows. But speaking of peanuts, you should go to our forums- lots of challenges and lots of discussion on our favorite show and characters. Where do peanuts fit into here? You just gotta go and find out, I guess. (Pssst, go to the 2 in the upper right hand corner).

Later days,

Tuttle


	2. A letter

HA HA HA HA!!! You thought I wasn't going to continue this, now did you!!! HA HA HA!!!

Peanut, peanutbutter, and jelly!!!

Okay folks, park your brains at the door, sit back, relax and enjoy the fluff.

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Stepping into her flat and closing the door, Mavis kicked off her high heels and let out a sigh of relief. Flopping onto the chesterfield, she let her head flop over the side and relaxed. Another day, another outrageous communiqué from Papa Bear- this time demanding a recipe for enchiladas, whatever those were. Really, she wondered why London put up with him. His operation must've been terribly important. But she found herself wondering what he could possibly accomplish with enchiladas, pizzas, ostrich feathers, and Tommy Dorsey records. These Americans certainly had some strange ideas about how to fight a war. Of course, they were the same lot who had thought to start a revolution by throwing a boatload of tea into a harbour.

The door opened and Mavis looked over to see her roommate, a Sergeant Sarah Forsyth, walking in, carrying a few bundles. Mavis pretended not to notice. Ms. Forsyth, who acted like the ruddy Duchess of York, could put her own things away for once. "Hello Mavis. Help me with these why don't you," Sarah said and she shut the door closed with her foot. Mavis just raised an eyebrow. "I could order you Corporal," Sarah pointed out.

"Looking to become an officer?" Mavis asked as she rolled her eyes and inspected her nails.

"If you're going to insult me, you won't get your letter."

Perking up, Mavis ran up to her roommate, snatched the packages away and hurried them into the small kitchen where she began to root through them. "Who's it from?" she asked as she tossed a few things onto the counter. "And where is it?"

"In my handbag." Mavis turned a hungry eye to Sarah's bag. "And don't think you're getting it until you've cleaned up that mess."

"That letter better be worth all this," Mavis pouted. "If I find it's from the bloke Freddy or whoever he is, I'll-"

Sarah pulled the letter out of her bag and inspected it. "It was forwarded by the Red Cross, so I imagine-"

Abandoning the groceries, Mavis pounced on the letter and tore it away from the unsuspecting sergeant. "It's from my brother. I haven't heard from him in ages." The last letter she received had come over two months ago, about the time Papa Bear had asked for peanuts. Mavis rolled her eyes at the thought. Peanuts. What was he planning to do? Shell German Headquarters and hope Hitler was allergic? She could see the headlines now: Peanuts End War- Hitler Found Red and Puffy.

"Well open it then," Sarah ordered as she finished putting the groceries away. Mavis shook herself out of her thoughts and greedily opened the letter. Sitting herself at the kitchen counter she read it, chuckling here and there as she went through it. "What's so funny? You're not allowed to just sit there and giggle without letting me in on the joke."

"Hmmm?"

Sarah gave up and moved behind Mavis, reading over her shoulder. "Blimey, but he has awful writing."

Mavis, realizing Sarah was behind her, clutched the letter and held it close. "What do you care? Besides, it doesn't matter. He's a flyer; he's not writing Whinny's speeches!"

"He _was_ a flyer," Sarah said off-handily, sauntering away.

Mavis felt her cheeks grow red. "He still is…"

"No, he's a POW," Sarah smirked. Mavis, who's always had a hot temper, balled her fists and willed herself not to smack her. "_My_ brother is a flyer. He goes up everyday and shoots down plenty of Jerries. Your brother wasn't even a pilot, he was just part of a bomber crew. How many missions did he go on before he was shot down… when was that again? I can't remember, but he didn't last very long, did he?"

"Wait a minute, Peter-"

"Isn't doing any good but keeping a few second rate- no, fourth rate- Germans off the front."

Though she should've been expecting it, Sergeant Forsyth was caught completely off-guard when a fist connected with her face. Not waiting for her reaction, Mavis slipped into her shoes and marched out, clutching her letter protectively.

Stomping out of the building, muttering every curse word her older brother had ever taught her, she marched down the lane until she found herself in a small, deserted park.

"What does she know anyway?" she muttered as she sagged down onto a bench. "Nothing, that's what," she told herself firmly. "I bet Peter'd be twice the flyer her brother is." Satisfied that Forsyth was nothing but a ruddy idiot, she opened her letter began reading it again. After a moment, she dropped it into her lap and sighed. "She's right. Blimey, I hate that."

She looked down at the letter and sighed. "You must hate it- knowing you're not doing any good. You keep telling me not to worry about you, but I do. I know you. You're going crackers being stuck in the middle of Germany, having the Jerries tells you what to do, what and when to eat and where to sleep. And you can't do anything about it!

"I wonder how many times you've tried to escape?" Mavis grinned at the thought. If she knew her brother, he'd probably tried more times than she could count on all her fingers and toes. He was probably making an escape right now. And was probably leading a merry chase too. But, obviously, he had yet to succeed. He'd keep trying though, until he made it home or the Germans decided to shoot him.

"I'd tell you to stop until we win and get you out, but you wouldn't go for that, would you? No, I thought not. You have to be doing something. But I guess there's not much you can do as a POW is there?

"Well, whatever you're doing to stir up trouble, just be careful."

Realizing she had been talking to a piece of paper for the last ten minutes, she sighed and tried to get comfortable on the bench. She began reading over the letter for the third time. It was the same old stuff. It rained, Carter caught a rabbit, he ran out of cigarettes and… wait. Mavis stopped and blinked. Shaking her head, she reread the last sentence. Then read it again.

"Peanuts?"

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Well, it made me laugh anyway...


	3. The Good Old Days of Peanuts and Things

Ah yes, the story continues...

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She supposed if she really thought about it, there were more important things to be concerned about than a few peanuts. After all, there was a war going on. In fact at this very moment, Mavis Newkirk could hear bombs exploding in the distance as she sat in HQ. And yet, Mavis couldn't take her mind off them.

"Finished those reports, Corporal?" Captain Sinclair asked from behind her, causing Mavis to jump in her seat.

"Blimey! You have an awful habit of scaring the life from me!" Mavis scolded as she grabbed her heart.

Sinclair smirked and tapped the pile of papers on her desk. "These aren't going to copy themselves." Mavis nodded, her cheeks turning red, and started typing out the hand-written reports for distribution. "Thank-you. Now, what's got your head in the clouds?"

"Nothing," Mavis lied with a sigh. The captain would just think she was silly. Honestly, fretting over peanuts. But she just couldn't let go. Peter wrote about peanuts only weeks after they had sent some to Papa Bear.

Silence fell upon the room with the only sounds being the clacking of Mavis' typewriter and the bombs in the background. Since the task at hand didn't require much attention- in fact, she wasn't really supposed to _read_ the reports, just type them- Mavis found her mind wandering back to the theories she had been forming since she had read Peter's letter.

The whole thing could have been an impossible coincidence. After all, the Red Cross could have sent the peanuts- but that seemed a silly thing to send. On second thought, it was even sillier to think London would send an underground organization peanuts, and yet they had.

The other possibility- the thought that had been hounding Mavis since she had read her brother's letter- was that Peter was somehow part of Papa Bear's operation. It seemed absurd. Peter was a prisoner of war and Papa Bear had the most successful underground operation in Europe. Certainly those two didn't go together. And besides, if Peter was part of the operation, he was taking an awful big chance in writing about peanuts, especially if Papa Bear had actually used them in one of his missions- which Mavis still found incredibly odd. Just what exactly did he do with them?!

Slamming her hands on her typewriter, Mavis decided that if she thought any more of this ludicrous subject, she would quite quickly go insane!

"I say! What has gotten into you, Corporal?" Sinclair asked, shaken out of his own work by the random outburst.

"Oh, I'm just bloody mad, that's all," Mavis confessed. That must be the real reason for her wild assumptions and theories, she decided angrily. The truth was, Sarah Forsyth's earlier comments about her brother had hurt her more than she wanted to admit. Maybe she was just trying to justify Peter's capture- make him into some sort of hero when he was really just another prisoner behind enemy lines.

"Hmmm, yes, I heard about your fight with Sergeant Forsyth. Bad form you know. You should learn to control that temper of yours."

"I know. But you wouldn't believe half the things that toff was saying about my brother! She had the nerve-"

"No, I'd rather not hear about it Corporal," Sinclair interrupted quickly. "In my experience, when one steps in the midst of a catfight, he will undoubtedly be scratched."

Mavis grinned and rested her chin on the back of her hand. "Yes, I suppose so. Except I don't scratch."

"I saw that."

Suddenly, the radio beside Mavis came to life. "Papa Bear calling Goldilocks, come in Goldilocks." It was a deep rich voice that filled the room. It was the voice Mavis heard most, and yet, she never thought of it as Papa Bear's. No, to her, Papa Bear was embodied in the cheeky American voice that delivered the most outrageous of demands. The brazenly confident voice that was so full of character.

Slipping on her headset, Mavis fiddled with the knobs on the radio and grabbed the microphone. "Goldilocks here Papa Bear."

"Are you sitting down Goldilocks?" Papa Bear- or one of Papa Bear's men- asked.

Mavis cocked an eyebrow. Whether it was delivering good news or bad, asking for big things or small, this voice never changed- it was always calm and controlled. But now, it seemed very reluctant. Mavis felt her heart buck. Had something horrifyingly terrible happened? Had Papa Bear been captured by the Gestapo? Was the operation pulling out?

"Yes. What is it Papa Bear?" Mavis asked anxiously.

The voice sighed. "We need one million dollars in diamonds," he stated simply.

What?

Mavis blinked. Then blinked again. "I'm sorry Papa Bear, could you repeat that? It sounded like you were asking for a million dollars in _diamonds_."

"I was."

Well, was she wrong. This was definitely the most outrageous, ludicrous thing they had ever asked for. But they must've be serious; this voice didn't play jokes.

Well, such an extreme demand deserved an equally extreme reply. A reply that this American couldn't misinterpret.

"Are you nuts?!" Mavis cried, jumping out of her seat and throwing her hands into the air.

"I thought you'd say something like that," he replied sheepishly.

"Then why on earth did you ask, you silly sod! What makes you think we have a million dollars in diamonds knocking about?"

She could practically see his nonchalant shrug. "Because we need it."

Mavis covered the microphone and looked to Captain Sinclair, who was watching her in amusement. "Can you believe that? A million dollars in diamonds. You don't suppose it's some code, do you?"

"I'm afraid not. Ask him what it's all about." Sinclair rose from his desk and moved behind Mavis, watching the radio curiously.

"Papa Bear, this is Goldilocks. Papa Bear, just what brought on this sudden attack of greed?"

"It's a long story Goldilocks… but basically, if we don't get it, our friendly neighborhood Gestapo is going to shut us down."

Mavis felt her spirits sink. "The Gestapo? Just how much do they know?"

"Everything."

Mavis bit her lip and looked back at Captain Sinclair, her eyes pleading with him to do something. Sighing, Sinclair just shook his head. "Nothing we can do old girl."

"But we can't just… we can't… but…" Sinclair just continued to shake his head. Finally, Mavis gave up and pouted. "So, they're just brown bread then. Just like that? Bloody hell."

The captain arched an eyebrow. "Brown bread?"

"Dead. They're dead."

Rubbing his temples, Sinclair desperately tried to follow Mavis' switching attitudes. "They want a million dollars in diamonds!" he reminded her.

"Surely they're worth it?" Sinclair just arched an eyebrow in reply. Sighing, Mavis seemed to deflate as she grabbed the microphone. "I'm sorry Papa Bear, but there's simply nothing we can do for you."

"Right. Papa Bear out."

"That's it then. It's a ruddy mug's game."

"I shouldn't worry, Corporal. If there's anyone who can outsmart the Gestapo, it's Papa Bear."

"Right," Mavis said glumly but her mind stayed on her depressing thoughts. She felt sick. Now she found herself wishing that Peter _wasn't_ involved in Papa Bear's organization. She'd rather have him sitting out the war safely tucked away in a POW camp than acting as a spy in enemy territory. With spies there were no second chances. If a spy was caught, that was it, he was shot- if he was lucky that was.

Mavis shivered. She'd heard stories about the Gestapo. She wasn't sure how much was propaganda, but she was pretty sure they weren't the types to help little old ladies cross the street.

She wondered if the Germans informed the family of shot spies.

Wait, no, she was getting ahead of herself again. Peter wasn't a spy, she reminded herself firmly. Sure, the man could con a dog out of its bone. Sure, he could sneak past a dozen pork chops and make off with a bit of tom foolery. But that didn't mean he could cut it as a spy.

Peanuts was a coincidence, that was all! She'd be glad to settle for that explanation. As long as it kept Peter safe from the Gestapo.

"Papa Bear to Goldilocks, come in Goldilocks," the deep voice called.

Mavis quickly snatched her headset and microphone. "Come in Papa Bear!"

"Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet, eating a bunch of berries. The berries were sour but Miss Tuffet was dumb enough to eat them anyway."

Mavis groaned and buried her face in her hands. She hated codes! At least, she hated the codes Papa Bear used. They were always so ridiculous and didn't always match her codebook. In fact, a lot of the time, it took quite a bit of deduction to figure out what they meant.

Pulling out her code book, she quickly flipped through the pages, trying to sort out what it meant. Miss Muffet- Gestapo. But as for that, nothing else made sense. Furrowing her brow, Mavis grabbed the microphone. This would take a bit of clearing up.

"Papa Bear, what kind of berries was Miss Muffet eating?"

"_Ruby_ red raspberries."

Mavis smirked and looked up at Sinclair. "I think they're asking for fake diamonds."

"That we can give them."

"Now why didn't we think of that," Mavis marvelled. Honestly, Papa Bear was terribly clever, if not a little obvious. "Goldilocks to Papa Bear. We will send Miss Muffet new berries, at M-15, zero-two-three-zero."

"Roger Goldilocks. Papa Bear over and-"

"Wait!" Mavis cried. Off Sinclair's startled look and what seemed to be a confused silence from Papa Bear, Mavis cleared her throat and tried to compose herself. "Papa Bear, are you sure Miss Muffet will eat her berries?" Would the Gestapo be dumb enough to accept fake diamonds?

"We'll find out."

"Good luck then," Mavis said softly. "Goldilocks over and out." Slowly slipping off her headset, Mavis let out a long sigh.

"What's wrong, Corporal?" Sinclair asked as he started the paperwork for Papa Bear's latest request.

"I was just thinking of the good old days when all he asked me for was peanuts."

Captain Sinclair snorted. "The war is young still. I expect you'll get a few more crazy requests before the fighting's done."

Mavis let out a long, worried sigh. "If Papa Bear lasts that long."

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There ya go, more to follow I'm sure.

Happy Thanksgiving, y'all!


	4. Another Coincidence or Two

Just another short little jaunt into the life of Mavis Newkirk!

Ahh... the pieces are falling together!!!

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Curiosity killed the cat. Or so the old saying went.

At this moment, Mavis Newkirk was very glad she was not a feline because if she were, she'd have dropped dead years ago. However, cat or not, right now she could swear that curiosity was eating her alive.

"Hmmm, it shouldn't think it will be too hard to manage," Captain Sinclair mused as he read over the transmission Mavis handed him.

"Sir, are you serious? Do you know who that man is?"

"Alfred Burke? Never heard of the man. Why, have you?"

Mavis squirmed in her seat. Of course she had heard of him, though she would never admit it. Not if she didn't want Captain Sinclair to know she was nothing more than a guttersnipe. "Well," she drawled, pulling on her fingers nervously, "I read in the Times he is some sort of thief." Which he was, but she knew that without reading the paper. The truth was, her charming scallywag of a brother had idolized him. 'Alfie the Artist' could crack the Bank of England like a tin of sardines, but only his loyalty to the Crown kept him from it.

So what on earth did Papa Bear want with a professional safecracker? That was the big question.

"Do they know where would could find him?" Sinclair asked.

"Ask Scotland Yard," Mavis suggested, wiggling her eyebrows. "They know where he is at all times." Sinclair gave her a funny look. "I would think," she quickly added.

"Contact Papa Bear," Sinclair said, tapping her desk. "See what this is all about. I'm not letting a criminal loose just to humour him."

"Right." Mavis fiddled with the radio and grabbed the microphone. "Goldilocks to Papa Bear, come in Papa Bear."

"Papa Bear here Goldilocks," a deep voice answered. Papa Bear's radioman again.

"Papa Bear, we need more information before we can send you Alfie th- I mean, Mr. Alfred Burke." Like, why did they need him? And more importantly, how did they know about him in the first place!

"What kind of information, Goldilocks?"

"Well, we-"

Sinclair pushed past her and grabbed the microphone. "I know you've asked for some crazy things old man, but breaking out a criminal?"

"What's the difference? Here or there, he'll be in prison anyway."

Mavis arched an eyebrow. What did that mean? Looking up at Sinclair, Mavis searched for any trace of confusion, but the captain just seemed exasperated.

"I suppose you're right. But listen, what's this all about then? Planning on stealing Hitler's moustache?"

"We thought about it, but it'll take away all his charm," Papa Bear replied wryly. Mavis hid a smile behind her hand as Sinclair rolled his eyes. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Sinclair handed the microphone back to Mavis and left for his own desk.

"Ask where we can find him and tell him we'll send him as soon as possible. I'm going to get myself some tea. Care for some?"

"No thank-you Captain," Mavis said, waving her hand dismissively. She waited until he had left the room before turning back to the microphone. "All right, straight up, what's this all about?" Her curiosity was getting the better of her, and if Papa Bear didn't explain what he wanted Alfie for, her imagination would run rampant until the thief came back.

"Oh, the usual," Papa Bear replied, sounding amused.

"The usual? One day, Papa Bear, I am going to-" she stopped herself. She wasn't supposed to chit-chat with Papa Bear. Scrunching her nose, Mavis decided to drop it. Everything concerning Papa Bear was on a need to know basis- whatever she needed to know, she knew all ready. "Right then Papa Bear. We'll break the tea leaf out of nick for you."

"Uh, right." There was a bit of a pause. "You know, I sure wish you Brits spoke English."

Mavis winced. Right. It was a good thing Sinclair had left and couldn't hear her. Radio transmissions to the most important underground operation of the war were no place for her slang. Although it did serve him right! After all, how many times did he say things that made absolutely no sense and expected her to be able to translate it all. Mavis was sorely tempted to keep it up, just to annoy him, but decided against it. After all, this particular voice was usually quite sincere. If she were to annoy someone, she would save it for the real Papa Bear. "What I meant to say was-"

"Don't worry. I have my own Cockney to American translator standing behind me. He filled me in."

"What?" There was a Londoner on Papa Bear's team? Peanuts, Alfie, Cockney… No, no, no- she wasn't going there again. Peter was safely tucked away in a prison c-

Wait one bleeding moment!

Papa Bear had mentioned something about a prison. Either way, Alfie would be in prison… Was it possible that they were stationed in a prison camp?! But that was ridiculous! Completely and utterly ridiculous!

"I understood what-"

"No, not that Papa Bear," she interrupted. Her mind whirled through the thousands of possibilities but always came back to the most impossible. "I just… I always understood that you were an American unit."

"We're multi-national: American, British, French, Russian, even German." There was another pause as Mavis digested the information. "You know Goldilocks, curiosity killed the cat."

Mavis smirked and shook her head. "Yes, I was just thinking that a moment ago."

"Well, you're going to have to live with it. The less particulars you know, the safer we'll both be."

He was right, of course. But she had so many questions! The coincidences were piling up and she desperately wanted- no, needed- a definite solution to this particular puzzle,

No, Papa Bear had more or less told her to drop the subject. For once she would listen to reason and do just that. "Point taken, Papa Bear. But when this is all over, do write a book about all this!"

Papa Bear laughed. "I'll even dedicate it to you Goldilocks. But by the time all this is declassified, we'll both be old and grey."

"I can wait," Mavis shrugged. "I'm terribly patient you know."

"Somehow, I don't believe that," Papa Bear teased.

Funny- neither did she.


	5. Goldilocks Meets the Papa Bear

I'm actually having quite a lot of fun with this story!!!

So, park your brain and have fun!

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Oh bugger!

Mavis raced along the sidewalk, dodging debris and rubble with her high heeled shoes tossed over her shoulder. The ground was still wet from the late-spring shower that had only just ended. She was already late and the last thing she needed was to slip and break a heel.

If Mavis had one redeeming quality, it was that she was never late. Except today. But it wasn't her fault! The ruddy duchess had insisted on taking an hour long bath, effectively holding Mavis' toiletries hostage. With time running out, Mavis had dashed out, her hair in tangles, her face shamefully plain and her legs bare of nylons.

Okay, to be fair, it wasn't all Sergeant Forsyth's fault. Mavis had been caught up in a letter from her brother before she left. It had actually been more than a page long- a novelty for Peter- but that was probably to make up for the months of silence. It hadn't been anything new, really. Colonel Hogan was sent to the hospital for a few days with some disease he couldn't pronounce, but it only affected Eskimos. Poor Carter had received a Dear John. LeBeau made some awful dish made out of eel heads or something equally disgusting. And Kinch had 'lost' a boxing tournament. As for him, well, he was keeping out of trouble as always. Like she believed that!

The letter might have played a small, tiny, miniscule, insignificant part in her current predicament.

Mavis threw a quick glance to her watch.

Oh bugger!

Without warning, a car rushed past her, hitting a large puddle and consequently soaking her entire left side. Mavis stopped and held her arms out, checking herself over. Letting out a frustrated growl, Mavis shook her fist at the army jeep. As soon as she did, the jeep pulled to the side of the road.

Good. She didn't care if it was a bleeding general in there, she was going to give him an earful, she was! Clenching her fists, she stomped over the idling jeep. "Oi! You miserable git!" she yelled, her voice losing its carefully cultivated upper-class accent and betraying her Stepney upbringing. "Look what you done, you ruddy berk! Why don't you watch where you're going?!"

"I'm sorry," the man in the passenger seat apologized. The voice was American. Figured. Mavis rolled her eyes and started marching down the street again. "Hey, hold it."

"Oh sod off," Mavis muttered, brushing down her uniform. She looked over her shoulder to see the American, a colonel, had jumped out and was right behind her. "Come to finish me off… sir?"

"Hey, hey, we're allies, remember? Let me make it up to you." Mavis just folded her arms across her chest, looking the colonel up and down suspiciously. She knew all about Americans- overpaid, oversexed and over here as the saying went. As if guessing what she was thinking, the American grinned and clicked his tongue. "Listen, you need a ride?"

Mavis hesitated. Well, she was late. And it would make up for soiling her freshly laundered uniform. "It's the least you could do, innit?"

"The least," the colonel, agreed, offering her his arm. She took it, though she was sorely tempted to just march up to the jeep herself just to spite him. After helping her in, the American settled in the seat beside her. "Where ya heading?"

"Intelligence headquarters, up the frog," Mavis said, nodding her head forward.

The colonel grinned. "What a coincidence, me too."

"Hurrah," Mavis said sarcastically. As the jeep started off, Mavis brushed off the soles of her feet and slipped on her shoes. The American watched in amusement. "Ever try an run in heels?" she challenged.

"I didn't say anything!" he said, holding his hands up in surrender.

Mavis scrunched her nose. She was being an absolute boor. And despite the fact that she now had to spend her entire shift looking like the guttersnipe she really was, there was no need to continue to be rude to the American. "Right. Sorry sir."

The colonel shrugged. "I deserved it I guess. Mussing up your carefully crafted appearance." Mavis scrunched her nose at his teasing sarcasm.

"I spent hours trying to look this good," Mavis replied. "It's not easy with the rationing you know."

"Oh sure, blame the rationing."

Mavis snorted and inspected the colonel from the corner of her eye. There was something oddly familiar about him, but she couldn't quite place it. Maybe it was the cocky smirk on his face- a standard feature of all American G.I.s. Or maybe… it was something else, she knew it, she just couldn't put her finger on it.

Before she could come to any sort of conclusion, the jeep came to a stop in front of HQ. The colonel hopped out and offered his hand to help Mavis. With a great sweeping gesture that bordered on the sarcastic, the colonel pointed to the steps. "Ladies first."

"Some lady," Mavis said with a wry smile as she looked herself over. With a small sigh, she started up the steps. When she realized the American wasn't following her, she looked over her shoulder to find him still at the jeep watching her… feet? "Sir?"

"Just wanted to see if you could actually walk in those," the American grinned. "Doesn't look too hard."

"Like walking on air. Care for a go?" she asked, reaching down to take off her shoe.

"No," the American answered quickly. "I'd be out of uniform."

"So would I, I suppose." At the American's broad grin, Mavis rolled her eyes and made her way into the building. "Evening Private," Mavis greeted the desk clerk.

"Evening," the clerk replied as he handed her a clipboard.

"Busy round here, innit?" she said, looking about as she signed her name. Even in the front hall, dozens of people were scrambling about with their various tasks. The private just shrugged. "Well, later mate." Looking behind her, she threw the colonel a quick salute before trotting to the elevator.

"Newkirk?" Stopping in her tracks, she turned around. The colonel was looking down at the clipboard a bit surprised.

"Sir?"

"Newkirk," the colonel repeated, this time less confused. Looking up at her, he titled his head and cocked an eyebrow. "Heh, Mavis Newkirk."

"Is there something I can do for you?" she asked, growing impatient.

Shaking his head, the colonel quickly signed the sheet and handed it back to the private. "Well Corporal Newkirk," he said, an odd sort of smile on his face, "you can point me towards General O'Malley's office."

"Round the corner, down the hall, up the steps and to your right," Mavis directed.

"Thanks…" He started down but paused and looked back at her. "Newkirk… yeah, I can see it." And with that, he rounded the corner and disappeared.

"What an odd fellow," Mavis observed as she stepped into the lift. As it dropped to her floor, Mavis tried her best to straighten herself out. She was still a mess as she entered the radio room and sat at her desk.

"Evening Corporal," Sinclair greeted, barely glancing in her direction.

"Evening Captain," Mavis replied as she patted down her hair.

Sinclair grabbed a paper and tossed it onto her desk. "Send this off to Papa Bear, posthaste. I have errands to run." He checked his watch and started for the door.

"Captain, wait!" Mavis called. Sinclair stopped halfway through the door and looked back at her impatiently. "What is happening today? Everyone seems to be in a regular tizzy."

"Just an average day, Corporal. Nothing to worry about," Sinclair answered, clipping his words tersely.

"Bullocks," Mavis said as he shut the door. But, like so many other things, she would find out when she needed. She didn't mind so much. In fact, ever since she had become Goldilocks, and especially of late, curiosity had been her constant companion. She had gotten used to it… almost.

Mavis glanced over the paper the captain had given her as she started up the radio. "Goldilocks to Papa Bear, come in Papa Bear."

"Papa Bear here, Goldilocks." It was Papa Bear's radioman- again. She swore, the man never made her wait more than three seconds for an answer.

"Blimey Papa Bear, don't you ever leave your radio? It seems like every time I call, you are right there to answer."

Papa Bear chuckled. "That's my job Goldilocks. Would you rather I kept you waiting next time?"

"No, I worry too much as it is," Mavis confessed.

"Aw shucks."

"All right, enough of this," Mavis said, getting down to business. There was a sense of urgency at HQ tonight and she didn't want to be responsible for holding up the war. "I have a bit of information for you. Let's see…" Mavis scanned the paper. "Papa Bear's drop off delayed one hour."

"One hour!" Papa Bear cried. "But he'll be late for… He'll be late!"

"Sorry Papa Bear. You'll simply have to-" Wait a minute. Just what were they dropping off to Papa Bear? Unless she was mistaken, it sounded like they were dropping… Papa Bear himself!

"Goldilocks?"

Mavis ignored him. She was thinking. "Papa Bear… Is Papa Bear there?"

"No…" Papa Bear sounded confused. "Is this really you Goldilocks? We went over this this morning."

"There are two or three different Goldilocks. Unlike you, I can't man the bleeding radio every second of the day. Now, just where is Papa Bear?"

"London. He has a meeting with General O'Malley and-"

"O'Malley?" It hit Mavis like a ton of bricks.

It had to be. It just had to be! Now she knew why the American had been so familiar. She had never seen him before in her entire life, but that voice was unmistakable. She could kick herself for not noticing right away.

"Papa Bear? Tall, dark, cheeky little bugger?"

Papa Bear snorted. "That's Papa Bear all right. Why?"

Mavis grinned. "Oh, just curious. Seems to be my lot in life. But… not for long." Here was her chance to put her crazy ideas and theories to rest, one way or another.

"Goldilocks, what are you planning?" Papa Bear asked suspiciously.

"Nothing," Mavis replied evenly. "Repeat, Papa Bear drop off delayed one hour. Goldilocks over and out."

"But-"

Mavis threw down her headset and rushed out of the room. Ignoring the lift, she instead raced up the stairs, two steps at a time. She was met with a few strange glances as she skidded into the front hall and scrambled to the front desk but she didn't care. All her answers laid on one little sheet of paper.

Taking a moment, she brushed herself down and tried to look casual as she leaned up against the front desk. "Evening Private."

"Hello again, Corporal," the desk clerk replied. "What are you doing back up here?"

"I need to have a go at that sign-in sheet. The captain needs to make sure someone arrived on schedule." The private looked up and her and cocked an eyebrow. "Come on then, you're holding up the war." Mavis said after a few moments, flashing him an innocent smile.

Shrugging, the private handed her the clipboard before going back to his paperwork. Mavis rolled her eyes. Blimey, with that kind of security, she wouldn't be surprised if she bumped into a few jerries. She'd have to mention it to someone.

But right now she had more important things to worry about. Like Papa Bear's name. Flipping through the sheets, Mavis finally found her own name- Mavis Newkirk. Now why had Papa Bear been so interested in it? Could it be that he knew… But she was getting ahead of herself.

Taking a deep breath, Mavis looked at the name under her own.

Though she had been preparing for it, Mavis was still shocked when she saw it. No! It was simply too ludicrous to be true. And yet, there it was.

Handing the clipboard back to the clerk, Mavis whirled on her heel and started back to her office in a daze.

As everything slowly fell into place, a slow smile crept onto her face. It was impossible. It was bloody impossible. And yet, that one name meant it was all true.

Colonel Robert Hogan.


	6. Reading Between the Lines

All right, yes I have been gone for a long time. For those of you who have missed me mentioning it a gabillion times, I was in Peru for three months. I got back two months ago, but it took a while to get back into the swing of things. I sure hope I didn't lose my touch...

Well, anyway, I decided to pick up PBL first. This chapter's got a different sort of feel to it. But, here you go.

* * *

The week certainly had been full of surprises, she mused as she lounged on the chesterfield, reading The Times.

D-Day, the Allied invasion of Normandy for starters. Excitement swept through London. The tides of the war were changing and they finally had a chance to beat back Jerry. It would only be a matter of time before the boys came home.

And, while Mavis joined the rest of England in the excitement brought on by the turn the war had taken, there was something else that occupied her thoughts. Perhaps it was silly, what with everything going on, but Mavis couldn't help but feel giddy about the tiny piece of information she had and the possibilities it presented.

She knew who Papa Bear was.

Papa Bear. The leader of the most secretive, bizarre and successful underground operation of the war was really Colonel Robert Hogan. Now, that in itself would be nothing, except that at the moment, Colonel Robert Hogan was listed as a prisoner of war.

The possibilities were endless. But, so were the impossibilities. Mavis had spent the last few days dwelling on the whole thing. A prisoner of war camp the base for a sabotage unit? It was ridiculous! How could it possibly work?

Mavis held her head. She didn't want to think about it. But there was a glaring issue it brought up that kept her mind firmly planted on the subject. Peter- just where did he fall into this whole thing? Surely, if Papa Bear's organization was based at his prison camp, her brother would be playing some role in it. Perhaps as some sort of scrounger- Peter could get his paws on anything and everything. Or maybe as a tailor?

Mavis smirked. Of all the legitimate things for Peter to do, he had chosen to sew. The more she thought about it, the more sense it made that he would probably be used as a tailor. After all, what did they need a scrounger for? Anything they wanted, London would drop to them. Mavis almost giggled at the thought. His one legitimate skill was being used for an underground organization.

But it really didn't matter what he was doing, as long as he was doing something!

But that idea brought up new worries. It was something she had briefly thought about before her suspicions about Papa Bear were confirmed. Peter was no longer just an ordinary POW. He was also a spy. And if anything went wrong, he would lose the protection of the Geneva Convention and that would be it.

And what if Peter was completely ignorant to what Hogan was doing? Would he be safe then if the Gestapo found out about the organization? Or would he be shot anyway? Mavis frowned. It didn't seem very likely that Peter didn't know about the whole thing. According to his letters, he was in the same barracks as Hogan. Surely Hogan couldn't operate without letting those in his own hut in on the operation.

Peter's letters. That brought up another thought. Maybe, this whole time, there had been clues of Papa Bear's operation in his letters. Like peanuts, perhaps. She still wondered what they had used those for. What else had Peter written about? His last letter had mentioned Hogan going to the hospital with an ailment that only affected Eskimos.

Mavis scrunched her nose, thinking back to her chance encounter with Papa Bear. Hogan, an Eskimo? Possible, but not probable. Perhaps it had been part of some scheme. When had that letter been written?

Mavis tapped her chin, thinking. Now, where did she put those letters? Folding her paper, she set it on the arm of the couch and got to her feet, making her way to her room. Nestled under her bed, behind her sewing box was a large bundle of letters, tied together with a red ribbon. Mavis grabbed the bundle and got to her feet, brushing off her skirt.

Almost five years worth of letters. Where did she start? With a sigh, Mavis left her bedroom and settled back in the sitting room. Untying the bundle she turned it over and looked at the first letter on the stack. The date on the yellowing envelope read November 1939. Peter's first letter. She could still remember the day she had received that letter. The war hadn't been serious then. In fact, it was the butt of a few jokes at the local pub. She remembered thinking Peter would be home in no time. It all seemed so foolish now.

Mavis frowned. There was talk that the war would be over by Christmas. Was that too optimistic? Was she setting herself up for disappointment just as she had all those years before?

Shaking her head, Mavis put the letter aside and continued to search through the pile. It didn't take long to get to the first of many letters forwarded by the Red Cross. Mavis searched through the letters until she found the date she wanted. February 1943- the first letter after she had been assigned to her current duty and given the codename Goldilocks.

Eagerly, Mavis opened the letter and read it carefully.

_Dear Mavis,_

_Your last letter you nattered on about how I never write anything interesting. If I could write, I'd become a bleeding novelist!_

_Sorry Mavis, love. But being a prisoner is about as boring as the afternoons we would spend with Aunt Elizabeth. The most exciting thing to happen to me lately is my toothache. Anything that breaks routine is a good thing. Our guard Schultz took me to -- to see a dentist. But I managed to convince him a slight detour to a pub was in order. _

_I can't believe life is as boring in London as you make it out to be. Blimey, you ought to be here! Tell me about the weather, rationing, anything! Blimey, tell me about dad if you have to._

_All right, I'll have a go at writing an interesting letter for you._

_I told you about Colonel Hogan, didn't I? He got here about three months ago. He's not a bad sort- for an officer._

_Speaking of officers, we just had a new one for a few days. Colonel Crittendon. I don't want to knock a countryman, but blimey, the man was a bloody idiot! And Colonel Hogan just let him take over. I was disappointed in the governor then, I tell you. But, the colonel is always thinking and it wasn't long before the old windbag left._

_I was subject to a bit of torture recently. Don't worry. Our Kommandant fancies himself a violinist. It sounds like someone is strangling a cat. I had to listen to him play from the kitchen. I was a lot better off than the colonel though. The sorry sod was in the same room. There was some -- -- visiting and I was serving dinner. My little mate LeBeau is a good cook- if you _like_ French food. Every now and then, he cooks for the Kommandant and his guests._

The next paragraph was all but blanked out. Six words made it through in the entire thing: _Other camps, plot, tougher,_ _Klink, _and_ escape. _

_I have to end this now, Mavis. The camp's glee club- me, Lebeau, Carter and Kinch- are meeting in the colonel's office. I told you it was boring here._

_Don't worry so much over me. I'm fine. A little bored, but fine._

_-Peter _

Mavis let out a sigh. Well, that had been disappointing. There was not much to indicate Stalag 13 was anything more than just an average prison camp. Although the name Crittendon did strike something in her memory. Crittendon… Where had she heard that before? The ridiculous thought of geraniums suddenly popped into her head, but she pushed it aside.

Checking the clock on the wall, Mavis scrunched her nose and got up. She had less than an hour to get ready for her shift at HQ. Grabbing her letters, she tucked a few into her purse and threw the rest on her bed. If she had a moment between radio transmissions and paper work, she'd investigate further. Maybe she could even get her hands on a transmission history between Goldilocks and Papa Bear. Surely Peter had let _something_ interesting slip that would match up. And if not… Mavis cast a glance at her purse. Well, maybe she could use the letters to get information out of Papa Bear when she spoke to him next.


	7. Captain Sinclair and Colonel Crittendon

Holy Toledo! An update!

* * *

Since D-Day, quiet days at HQ were few and far between. It became quite obvious from the moment she walked through the front doors that Mavis would have no time to look through her letters. Something was going on but she had learned not to ask. Information at HQ was on a need to know basis and unless it concerned Papa Bear, she didn't. And even then she didn't know all the details- at least, not officially.

However, hope was not lost. While the lobby had been bustling with activity, the radio room was deadly quiet. Captain Sinclair was sitting at his desk, intently reading a sheet of paper. He didn't even look up as Mavis entered and settled down at her desk. Doing her best to ignore him, Mavis set about organizing the paperwork that littered her desk. With that out of the way and the silence still looking in the room, she pulled out a letter and started reading it. However, she just couldn't seem to concentrate on it. Something was off.

Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. Rising to her feet, she slipped out the door.

When she returned, carrying a tray with two cups of tea, Captain Sinclair was still reading over the document. "Tea, sir?"

Sinclair jumped in his seat and grabbed his chest. "Corporal! Don't sneak up on a man like that."

Mavis couldn't help but smirk. "Just giving you a taste of what you put me through, Captain. Here, wash it down with some nice hot tea."

Sinclair scowled at her which just made her smile more. "Thank-you, Corporal," he muttered, taking a cup of tea off the tray.

"Anytime, sir. Now, what has you so serious?"

Sinclair cleared his throat and set his report down on his desk. "Last night we sent a message off to Papa Bear."

Mavis sipped at her tea and waited for Sinclair to continue. "And?" she pressed when he remained silent.

"We've ordered him home."

Mavis blinked. "Ordered him home? Why? The war's almost over!"

"Exactly. Jerry knows it's only a matter of time. They're going to be going after Papa Bear even more now- if only to get a bit of revenge. High Command wants Papa Bear out before anything happens to him."

"And that's what's got you all serious then?" Mavis managed.

"No, not that. I agree with them. Papa Bear has been a thorn in the German's side for almost two years. They'll want him, you can bet on that."

"Are they shutting down the whole operation?"

"No, they just want Papa Bear himself out. They're sending a replacement for him."

"What?! What about Peter and the others? What's so special about Hogan. He's only-" Mavis hands flew up to her mouth as she cut herself off. "I mean," she began but Sinclair had already jumped to his feet.

"What did you say, Corporal?"

"Nothing, sir. I was just wondering why-"

Sinclair narrowed his eyes and inspected her suspiciously. "Corporal. What do you know about Hogan?"

"Hogan? Well, I-" She looked at Sinclair helplessly. There was no use trying to fool him. "I… I met him. A few weeks ago when he came to see General O'Malley."

"You met Hogan? But what made you think he was Papa Bear?"

Mavis pulled at her fingers, trying to figure a way out of this mess. Great. What would happen now? Would they reassign her?

"Corporal?"

Mavis took a breath. "Peanuts, sir."

"Peanuts?"

"Yes, sir. Remember when Papa Bear requested peanuts? Well, in his next letter, my brother Peter mentioned peanuts and it got me thinking. And then Alfie the Artiste and well…" Mavis looked up at Sinclair apologetically. "I just put two and two together. I just knew Peter had to be part of Papa Bear's organization and from there… Well, meeting Hogan just confirmed everything, sir."

"So you've known about this for months?!"

"Well, I've suspected as much for months."

"Have you told anyone?" Sinclair pressed.

"Of course not!" Mavis defended, appalled by the accusation. "It could get my brother into trouble too, not just Hogan!"

"No one? Are you sure? Not your family? Not your roommate?"

"Absolutely no one sir!"

Sinclair growled and rubbed his forehead. "This complicates things, Corporal. The details of Papa Bear's organization are only known to a few people. I don't even know everything! The more people who know, the bigger the chance it could leak out and-"

"And I know the rest, sir." Mavis heaved a great sigh. "Now what? Am I being reassigned?"

"Possible. But that might just cause an even bigger security issue. I'll have to report this to General O'Malley. Mavis, you should've left well enough alone."

"I'm beginning to see that, sir. But all those coincidences just kept piling up. I'd have to be a bloody fool to ignore them all."

"Now, what had you so serious earlier?" Mavis asked, trying to change the subject.

Sinclair just glared at her. Finally he sighed and handed a sheet of paper to Mavis. "This. Papa Bear's replacement."

Mavis read over the page. When she got to the name, she looked up at Sinclair in disbelief. "Colonel Crittendon? He's the replacement?" Was it the same Colonel Crittendon Peter had mentioned in his letter?

"You know him?"

Mavis shrugged. "My bother wrote to me about a Colonel Crittendon. Said he was a complete idiot. It couldn't be the same man, though, could it?"

"Unfortunately, it probably is," Sinclair growled. "This Colonel Crittendon has already fouled up a few of Hogan's schemes. Before you came, I had just had it out with High Command about it. I tried to tell them it was a rotten choice, but they are convinced they know what's best." He shook his head. "I think it has more to do with that fact that Crittendon volunteered and already knows about the operation. They're trying to keep the amount of people who know about the operation to a minimum." He looked at Mavis pointedly.

"Then we had better tell Papa Bear to stop helping prisoners escape."

Sinclair just glared at her. "Papa Bear's going to eat me alive when I send him this."

"It was nice knowing you, Captain," Mavis said, offering a salute.

Sinclair just smirked. "Nice knowing you. While you still are Goldilocks, you can still contact Papa Bear. Here."

"Oh why thank-you, Captain. Your concern for my well-being is touching."

"Speaking of your well-being, while you send that off, I am going to talk to General O'Malley." He started towards the door and stopped, looking back at her. "Mavis?"

"Yes, sir?"

Sinclair sighed and shook his head. "You should've left well enough alone."

"You already told me that, sir."

"And I still mean it."

And with that, Sinclair left. Mavis sunk into her chair and bit her lip. Well, now she and Colonel Hogan had a bit more in common. He was about to lose his job as Papa Bear and she was about to lose her job as Goldilocks.

Perhaps it was all for the best. After all, this job had given her nothing but headaches. And learning about Peter had just made her worry even more about him.

But she couldn't simply forget what he was, Goldilocks or not. At least as Goldilocks she could keep track of his underground activities- make sure he was still safe. And if he ever did get into trouble? At least she would know about it, instead of being left to wonder and worry.

Mavis shook her head. There was no use worrying about it until it happened. For right now at least, she was still Goldilocks and she still had a job to do.

She looked down at the paper again. Colonel Crittendon. Great. Her last transmission to Papa Bear and she had to tell him something like this. Well, perhaps there were two Colonel Crittendons out there.

"Goldilocks to Papa Bear, come in Papa Bear."

"This is Papa Bear, go ahead, Goldilocks." Papa Bear's radioman. Mavis briefly wondered if he was one of them men Peter had written to her about.

"Papa Bear, I have the information on your replacement."

"All right, shoot."

"He's an colonel- twelve years with the RAF, with training as a commando and saboteur. In fact, he claims to be an expert."

"Sounds good."

Mavis nearly choked. "High Command thinks highly of him. He will have the information you need for Papa Bear's return."

"Right. Thanks, Goldilocks. Papa Bear over and out."

The radio cut out and Mavis set her microphone down. "Did I mention his name was Crittendon?" She winced. Well, they would find out eventually. And when they did, there would be another Goldilocks to take the flak.

* * *

Never really did tell us why London wanted to bring Hogan home.

Anyway, at least we know that Hogan's job is safe!


	8. Goodbye Goldilocks

It was annoying, Mavis finally decided as she looked over her shoulder. It was bloody annoying and somewhat unnerving to have someone follow her everywhere she went.

Mavis stopped in front of a store front window and pretended to be interested in the knick-knacks on display. Her attention, however, was really on the man that had been following her for the past ten days while she had been on "R and R". Mavis snorted. Those ten days had been anything but relaxing. How could she relax when HQ suspected her of being a spy?!

She had been issued a real spy to follow her and for the first few days, Mavis had borne it with a touch of amusement. After all, she wasn't a spy. And she understood why HQ was doing it. The security of the most successful underground operation of the war was in danger. And, she had to admit, having a spy follow her around had been somewhat exciting.

But the excitement had quickly worn off. Now, she contemplated the merits of shaking him. It wouldn't be too hard. Dodge down an alley here, hop a fence there and Bob's your uncle, Fanny's your aunt, she would be in the clear. Of course, that would just make her more suspicious and if at all possible, Mavis wanted to avoid a firing squad. Besides, there were only so many places she could go- eventually he would catch up with her again.

And so, with a sigh and another glance at her tail, she started off again. She was on her way to HQ where she would finally learn her fate. She hoped it was good news. The fact that they hadn't arrested her yet probably meant they had cleared her as a spy. Most likely, they had called her to HQ for a debriefing and a stiff reprimand and that was all there would be to it.

Mavis smiled, feeling more at ease than she had in a week. Honestly, the whole thing would be forgotten soon. Surely Captain Sinclair had simply over-reacted. Yes, she knew who Papa Bear was and where he was stationed, but knowing that couldn't be much more dangerous than all the other things she knew just from her radio contact with the underground operation. After all, she had already known…

Mavis stopped. No, without knowing who Papa Bear was, she hadn't known very much. All she had known was that he made eccentric demands. She hadn't known for sure if he were in Germany, France, Austria or anywhere else in Europe. Now she knew exactly where he was stationed- although, who would ever believe someone could operate out of a prison camp?

Perhaps they were worried that, even if she wasn't a spy, she would still somehow let the information leak to the wrong person. Mavis shook her head. No, that wouldn't happen. After all, it was her brother's life on the line if she let something slip.

If anything, knowing about Hogan would only help her in her duties as Goldilocks. Surely High Command realized that.

As she approached HQ, Mavis felt a wave of uncertainty rush through her. It was insane to count on High Command to do the right thing- after all, they were the same lot who had decided to send Colonel Crittendon to replace Colonel Hogan!

After signing in, she made her way down to the radio room. As usual, Captain Sinclair was at his desk, going over paperwork. When he saw her come in, he quickly stood. The look on his face quickly chased away any of the optimistic thoughts Mavis might have had on the way in. "Corporal," he said by way of greeting.

"Sir."

The silence that fell upon them was deafening. Finally, Mavis couldn't take it anymore. "All right, sir, out with it. What have they decided? Am I-"

"They're discharging you, Corporal."

Mavis felt as if she had been punched in the gut. She stood stiffly, not knowing what to say. They were discharging her? From the service? For good? They weren't even going to reassign her? "That-" Mavis stopped to take a breath. "That wasn't what I was expecting," she finally admitted.

"I'm sorry, Corporal."

"This hardly seems fair, sir. After all, all I did was-"

"If I were you, I would just be thankful they aren't trying you as a spy," Captain Sinclair interrupted tersely. "And believe me, they wanted to. I've spent the last week arguing your case for you. I told them it was our own fault for not reassigning you when we found out your brother was part of Papa Bear's organization. I-"

"Wait a moment. You knew about my brother all along?"

"Don't sound so indignant, Corporal," Sinclair said, sounding a little indignant himself. "You didn't need to know. And we would've been better off if it had stayed that way."

Mavis sighed. He was right, of course. And now she wished that she had been kept in the dark. Perhaps the curiosity hadn't killed her, but it definitely hadn't made her life any easier. "Am I being court-marshalled?" she asked, getting back to what was important.

Sinclair shook his head. "No. General O'Malley wants this done quickly and quietly."

The reply gave only a small measure of relief that failed to overcome the disappointment she felt. This wasn't just about Peter or Papa Bear or her role as Goldilocks. She had been in the service almost since the war had began. It had given her meaning to serve her country. And now? Now what?

Wordlessly, Sinclair handed her a handkerchief and it took a moment for Mavis to realize there were a few tears running down her cheeks. She dabbed her face, feeling silly for crying, and cleared her throat. "I don't suppose there's any chance I can be reassigned? I don't care if I drive a truck for the rest of the war."

"I'll see what I can do for you, Corporal, but I wouldn't get my hopes up."

"Well at the very least, could you have them call off my shadow?"

At that, Sinclair groaned and squeezed his eyes shut, bringing a fist to his forehead. "You weren't supposed to know about that," he muttered.

Mavis managed a small smile. "I'll add it to the list, sir."

Sinclair gave her a hard look which melted into a small smile and a soft chuckle. "I told them you were too clever to let go."

Suddenly, a rush of static filled the room and both Sinclair and Mavis turned to the radio. "Papa Bear to Goldilocks, come in Goldilocks."

Both of them looked at the radio and stood in silence for a moment. It wasn't until Papa Bear repeated his call that they moved. "Well, I best be going. It was a pleasure serving with you, Captain."

Sinclair's lips twitched and he nodded. "The general wants to debrief you tomorrow. 0900."

"Yes sir." Mavis offered a salute which Sinclair returned. Then, slowly, she turned and made her way out of the room. She paused just outside, keeping the door open a crack and listened as Sinclair answered the radio. "Go ahead Papa Bear, this is Goldilocks."

With a small sigh, Mavis let the door shut.


	9. Is There a Traitor In the Pub?

For all of you who love to torture our heroes in their stories, I have a fantabulous idea! Have the Gestapo pull out their ruddy wisdom teeth!! WORST THING EVER!!

The one good thing about having them pulled is that I now have a bit of free time... even if I have to spend it looking like a chipmunk. GRRR. I want a flippin' hot dog. Or a PB&J. Or steak... Or something awesome to eat. I hate Jello and pudding and soup and... GRRRRR!

Wow. Sorry about the rant. On with the story.

--

She had taken a giant step backwards. Three giant steps, actually. The disappointment of it all felt like a pile of lead in her chest.

Perhaps it was foolish, but she had hoped that she would come out of the war a better person with a better life. The army had taught her things that she had never even considered herself capable of learning before. She could operate a radio, could type just as fast as any other girl at HQ and could make the captain's tea just the way he liked it. Mavis rolled her eyes. Perhaps the last skill wouldn't help her in life, but she had taken a stupid sort of pride in the talent.

And now? Now she was right back where she had started. Back where she belonged, as Sarah Forsyth had pointed out with an infuriating smirk.

With a growl, Mavis slammed a mug down on the counter and looked about the room. It was mostly empty, but that would change soon. Smoke, which never quite went away, hung heavily in the air, making the already dim light seem dimmer. Laughter and loud talk rose up from the few patrons sitting about the pub. Three men were fooling around with a radio, which was producing nothing but loud static. If they were trying to fix it, there were better places for that and they would probably have more luck if they were sober.

Mavis shook her head and decided to ignore them. Instead, she turned her attention to a lonesome patron sitting in the far corner of the room. He was slowly nursing a beer while reading a newspaper, but Mavis knew that was not where his interest lay. He was there to keep an eye on her.

Letting out a small sigh, Mavis went back to cleaning out glasses. Since being discharged, she hadn't come upon any new information, but that didn't mean HQ didn't trust her not to spill the knowledge she already had. Despite Sinclair's assurances that he had convinced the brass of the opposite, she knew she was still considered a risk. As far as she could tell, there had been two men assigned to follow her about but she wouldn't be surprised if there were more. It seemed like a dreadful waste of manpower. Surely there were more important things to occupy them.

But then again, perhaps not. Papa Bear's organization was too valuable to take chances with. With the war winding down, they were in even more danger and, though it annoyed her, she was thankful that HQ was taking its protection so seriously. She would do anything to keep her brother and the other chaps in the operation safe- even if it meant putting up with HQ knowing her every move.

The bell above the door rang and Mavis looked to see a group of men stagger in. Upon recognition, Mavis threw her eyes up at the ceiling and shook her head. Mr. Miller, the bartender, had left and wouldn't be back for another half hour. That left Mavis to deal with the new arrivals alone.

"MAVIS!" one of the men shouted when he saw her. "Mavis me luv, me darling. Wot you doin' back 'ere?! Thought you left us for good. Oi, boys, look; it's Mavis!"

There was a chorus of "Mavis" as the men clambered down to steps and made their way to the bar.

"'Ello Charlie," Mavis greeted, feeling a pang of remorse at how easily she had slipped back into her Cockney accent. She quickly pushed the feeling aside. Since when had she become such a snob? Heaven forbid Sarah was rubbing off on her.

"We missed you, luv. Haven't we, boys?" Charlie cried. The other men shouted their agreement.

"Come back to marry me, Mavis?" another man asked.

"Now what would your wife say, Mac?"

"Oh, I wish you 'and't brought 'er up. Now I need a drink!"

"Innit wot you come 'ere for in the first place?" Mavis countered.

Mac just laughed and smacked the counter. "Oh we missed you, we did. Now be a love and pour me a drink." Mavis did so and he took a swig. "Wait 'til your old man finds out you're back, Mavis. Since you left, 'e's 'ad to pay for his own drinks!"

"Ruddy shame, innit?" Charlie piped up with a laugh.

Mavis couldn't help but scowl. "Yes, a bloody shame. 'Ere." She shoved a pint of beer into his hands.

"Glad to 'ave you back, Mavis. Never should've left, I say. Hotpot 'asn't tasted nearly as good since," Mac complained. Mavis managed a small smile as she poured the rest of the group their drinks. Perhaps it wasn't such a big step backwards after all. It was certainly hard to feel miserable when a soused group of men were praising her hotpot.

"I'm sure rationing 'asn't 'elped much," Mavis replied.

Mac smacked the counter again and pointed at her, a very serious look on his face. "You're dead on, Mavis me love, dead on. Bloody rationing is a conspiracy to deprive me and me hard working mates of good 'otpot!" The group shared a laugh in agreement.

"Now, now, now gents," Charlie hollered, raising his hands in the air for everyone's attention. "Let's raise a toast to our girl. To Mavis and 'er 'otpot." The others echoed the toast. After a long gulp, Charlie set his drink down on the counter and eyed Mavis. "Blimey, 'aven't seen you in a long time. Left not long after we gave Peter that send off."

"Long time," Mac agreed. "Wot you been doin' since then? You join up?"

"Sod off, mate," Charlie said, pushing the other man. "Wot would she do in the army?"

"Type," Mavis answered. "Type, type, type."

"Oh, so you did join up, then. Still doesn't explain why we 'aven't seen you since."

Mavis shrugged. "Sorry, mate," she replied and left it at that.

Charlie was about to say something when a loud rush of static filled the air. Raising an eyebrow, he glanced at the three men in the corner. "Wot you got there?" Stepping over, he inspected the radio. "Blimey, wot you doin' to it? 'Ere, 'old this, let me 'ave a go."

"Bugger off, Charlie," Mac laughed. "You can't fix that." Charlie didn't answer.

"All right, give it a go," Charlie said a few minutes later. When the radio was turned back on, instead of static, a female voice sounded out as clear as a bell. "There! Wot you think of that then, Mac?!"

Mac just grumbled and took another drink. Mavis winked at Charlie who raised his beer to her.

"-Berlin Betty," the voice on the radio said. The men groaned but no one moved to change the station.

"Wonder wot she looks like," Mac mused at Berlin Betty's purring voice.

"Like your wife," Mavis smirked. Mac shuddered.

"-as my guest, one of your own countrymen who has realized the futility of continuing the resist-"

"Oi, change that rubbish," someone growled. "We're winning the war now. Bloody dame is off 'er rocker." A loud roar went up as the others agreed. "They're just scared, that why they're doin' it. Plain scared!"

"And now here is Corporal Peter Newkirk of the Royal Air Force."

The silence that followed was deafening. Mavis couldn't move as her heart dropped into her stomach. Had she heard right? Peter Newkirk? Her brother?

What was he doing? This couldn't possibly be real. He wasn't a traitor! He was part of the most successful underground operation of the war. He didn't help the Germans; he fought them.

"It can't be our-" Charlie started but he was interrupted by Peter's voice, clear as day, coming in over the radio.

"Tonight," Peter's voice said, "I would like to ask each of my comrades to lay down his gun and surrender."

All eyes turned to Mavis, but she didn't react. She couldn't. What was going on? Had the Gestapo found out about the organization? Had they arrested everyone and, as a final insult, had made them broadcast this sort of treacherous plea?

"I think I can best illustrate my reasons for asking this," Peter continued, "by reminding you of a story I learned when I was a wee bit of a lad in London."

"I knew 'im when 'e was a wee lad!" Mac growled. "And I didn't teach 'im treason!"

There was a pause, almost as if Peter had heard him. But it was only a moment's hesitation before he started up again. "It's the story of Mama Bear and Papa Bear."

The relief that washed over Mavis was almost enough to make her cry. She wasn't sure who Mama Bear was, but she knew Papa Bear. It had to be some sort of coded message. Perhaps their radio had broken down. If so, this would be a rather easy way to get a message through as HQ monitored Berlin Betty's broadcasts.

She should've known their was no way Peter would actually betray his country. Sighing with relief, Mavis was about to start cleaning glasses again when she felt all eyes on her. She stiffened and looked up. Looks of disgust, betrayal, and anger met her.

"Wait a minute, you don't think 'e's serious?!" Mavis cried.

Mac shook his head and looked down at his drink. "Listen, luv, I was a POW in the first war. I know it's 'ard- you're always 'ungry and afraid. I can see a man crackin', specially with this lot." He looked back up at Mavis, his expression stone cold. "But that don't excuse betrayin' your country and that's wot Peter gone and done."

"But it must be a joke," Mavis insisted, trying to find a way to defend her brother. "A trick to get something out of Jerry." She slid a glance over to her tail, who was watching her intently.

"Still selling us out," Charlie growled. He looked at her with some pity. "All right, we know 'im. We know 'e could be jokin', but wot about all those lads on the front? They don't know 'im. They don't know 'e's jokin'. Wot if 'e convinces them to lay down their guns?"

Mavis opened her mouth to protest, but quickly shut it. The accusation was ridiculous- there was no way a story about Mama Bear and Papa Bear would convince anyone to give up. But she knew that wasn't the point. It was the principle of the matter that counted. As far as these men were concerned, Peter was willingly helping the Germans. The reasons behind it weren't important. And besides, the only plausible reasons were selfish.

If they knew the truth- Mavis shook her head. That was out of the question. She couldn't tell them. Even if it wasn't top secret, there was not a chance in the world that they would believe this was really a coded message being sent by an underground organization that was operating from out of a prison camp.

There was no way to convince them of Peter's innocence and so she stopped trying.

--

Bet Hogan never considered how the events of "Is There a Traitor In The House" would affect poor Newkirk's reputation back home. What a jerk.

Now I'm usually against typing in dialectness but I figured it would serve to drive home Mavis' "fall from grace" just a bit more... Ahem.


	10. Dear Mama: A Recording

I still look like a chipmunk, I'm still grumpy and I'm still hungry! Oh cruel world!

--

Mavis sat on the chesterfield, knitting needles working furiously to turn a ball of blue yarn into a scarf. Not that Peter particularly deserved it, Mavis found herself thinking bitterly.

It had been a little over a week since Peter's broadcast for Berlin Betty and Mavis was still dealing with the backlash. Although she had personally did nothing wrong, she was Peter's sister and as such, she was tainted by association.

Mavis shook her head and set her knitting down. If only they knew what Peter had done. He wasn't being a traitor; he was being a hero. But there was no way to tell anyone that.

She desperately wished she was still at HQ. At least there, there were other people who knew what was going on. Mavis suddenly smirked. If she were still there, Captain Sinclair would be having a hard time trying to keep her in the dark about Peter's role in the Papa Bear organization. If only she had kept her mouth shut for another week or two then she would've had a legitimate reason for knowing what she did. Or, most of what she knew, anyway.

Picking her knitting up again, she went back to making the scarf. As the needles clicked away between her fingers, she wondered what the message had meant. She hadn't paid attention to it at the pub. She was half-tempted to track down Captain Sinclair and ask.

Not that she could do anything with the information now. Since leaving HQ, the only information she got about what was going on was from the letters Peter sent to her. And those weren't exactly detailed.

What if, Mavis thought worriedly, her first fears about Peter's message were true? What if they had been captured by the Gestapo and had been forced to send out messages? What if Peter's coded message was to tell HQ the operation had been discovered?

No, that wouldn't be it, Mavis assured herself. Most likely, they were sending off information about some factory. No, that wouldn't work. First off, why not just send it through normal radio contact? And HQ's codename was Goldilocks, not Mama Bear.

Mavis tried to clear her head of all those questions. With no way to satisfy it, curiosity was a positively cruel affliction.

The apartment door opened and Mavis looked up to see Sarah stroll in. "Still loafing about?" Sarah asked, not even glancing in Mavis' direction.

"Knitting a scarf for my brother, if you must know."

"Be sure to put a swastika on it." Mavis tensed and glared at her roommate, wondering how effective a knitting needle would be as a weapon. Sarah made no note of Mavis' reaction as she made her way into the kitchen. "I went down to the post office. There's a parcel for you."

"A parcel?" Mavis asked, her curiosity winning out over her anger. "Did you bring it home?"

"Of course not," Sarah scoffed. "You'll have to pick it up yourself."

Mavis scowled as she set down her knitting and rose to her feet. "Well thank-you, Sarah. You're always so thoughtful."

"Anytime." Mavis rolled her eyes and shot the sergeant a dirty look before slipping out of the flat. As she walked out onto the street, she noticed a man look up from his newspaper and casually tuck it under his arm. Blimey. They weren't being very sneaky. But maybe that was the point. Maybe HQ wanted her to know she was being followed so that she wouldn't try anything stupid. On the other hand, if she were a spy, it would be easier to find her contacts if she didn't know.

Mavis shook her head. She would never understand HQ's reasoning behind anything. And, really, she would rather think they were letting her know on purpose than to think they were incompetent.

Every once in a while, as she made her way to the post office, she glanced back at her tail. It was on the third time she looked back that she noticed something odd. There was another man following her tail. Of course, it could've been pure coincidence, but she could have sworn she had seen the same man the other day as well.

"Coincidence," Mavis muttered to herself. After all, why would HQ send two spies to follow her at the same time. It didn't make sense. Oh right, she wasn't questioning HQ's logic anymore.

With a shrug, Mavis decided to ignore both of them. Pushing the post office door open, she stepped in and took her place in the queue.

"Good morning, Miss Newkirk," the clerk said as she approached the desk. "Been expecting you."

"Yes, Sergeant Forsyth said there was a package for me."

The clerk nodded. "Yes ma'am. I told her she could take it home with her, but she didn't seem too keen on the idea. No matter though. Now I get to see you and that's never a bad thing."

"Go on," Mavis said with a small laugh. "Now, what about this package."

"Oh, coming right up." The clerk disappeared from view and came back with a thin, wide package. "Here you are." Mavis held her hands out for it and he was about to hand it to her when he paused and pulled it back, inspecting the label carefully. "Forwarded by the Red Cross. Marked fragile." He shook it, causing Mavis to wince. "Wonder what's in it. Odd sort of shape though. Bet it's a record."

Mavis arched an eyebrow and stood on her tiptoes, trying to get a view of the label. "A record? From the Red Cross? That is odd."

"Yes ma'am." He shook it again. Mavis made a grab for it, but he didn't seem to notice as he held it up. "Not very heavy. Must be a record."

"I'll be sure to let you know once I open it," Mavis said, trying to keep her voice cheery when all she wanted to do was leap over the counter and tackle him.

The clerk blinked as if he finally sensed her impatience and wordlessly handed it to her, a sheepish look on his face. "Ahem. You have a good day now, Miss Newkirk. Hope to see you again."

Mavis gave a polite nod as she tucked the parcel under her arm and stepped out of the post office. The trip home was rather uneventful, save for the fact that one of her tails had traded off.

When she got home, Sarah was nowhere to be seen. Mavis shrugged and plopped herself onto the chesterfield. Turning the package over, she inspected it carefully before she tore it open. Nestled within a safe cushion of packing material was a record envelope. Mavis pulled it out. There was a note attached to it, which Mavis pulled off and quickly read.

To whom it may concern,

Through the generosity of the detaining power, Allied Prisoners of War have been given the opportunity to record messages to be sent to their families through the International Red Cross.

Jumping to her feet, Mavis quickly made her way over to the record player in the corner of the room. After placing the record on the player, Mavis settled herself on the chesterfield to listen.

"Dear Mama," a voice said. Mavis sat up straighter. Though she recognized the voice, it definitely wasn't Peter's. Instead, it was Colonel Hogan's. Had the Red Cross made a mistake?

"It sure was nice of the Germans to let us make records for our families. They do what they can to make prison life more bearable."

Mavis got to her feet. She hadn't missed the slight emphasis on 'bearable'. Dear Mama. Bearable. It was code! Hogan was sending her- or whomever he thought the record was being sent to- a coded message. Stopping the record, Mavis scrambled around to find a pad or paper and a pencil. When she found them, she started the record up again, ready to write down all the key words she could pick out.

"Dear Mama.

"It sure was nice of the Germans to let us make records for our families. They do what they can to make prison life more bearable.

"I let all my men go first, and that took some time. I can't tell you how anxious I was to have to wait two whole weeks to record my own message. In that time, we got a new man and of course, I let him go ahead of me too. Apparently, he parachuted out of his plane over Holland. He seemed a little shook up at first. I know how he feels. When you get shot down you feel like a complete and utter failure. But he's cheered up a bit. It took a few weeks, but we managed to sort him out.

"I don't want to make this message too hasty, but I'm getting pressure from the others to hurry up. But, as Carter always says, 'sin in haste, repent at leisure'. Not sure what that means but it seems like sound advice. They can wait. Oh… getting dirty looks. Well, they'll need a tank, lots of them actually, to get me away from this recorder.

"I sure miss you Mama. I can't wait for this whole thing to be over so I can come home. I bet you can't wait either. I bet you'll even have your famous pot roast and apple pie waiting for me too.

"I have to go now, Mama. Take care of yourself. I'll try to stay out of trouble. Hey, don't laugh!

"Until I see you again, Mama."

At that, the recording ended. Mavis looked back over the notes she had taken. The last bit didn't seem important. If it were a coded message, it had only been added to make it seem more like an authentic recording to his mother. The first part however had possibilities.

"But who is Mama Bear?" Mavis thought aloud.

"Who?"

Mavis jumped as Sarah entered the room. "Who? Oh, nothing." Without another word, Mavis got up and took the record off the player and slipped it back into its envelope. She had to get this to HQ as quickly as she could. It was too important to keep at the flat and though she didn't suspect Sarah of anything, she couldn't trust her- or anyone else- with it.

"I think I'll go for a walk," Mavis announced as she stuffed her notepad into her purse and tucked the record under her arm.

As she scurried down the road, her mind went over the recording. It had to be a coded message. But that brought up a whole bunch of questions. First, who was Mama Bear? Second, why was the record sent to her? And third, would she even be allowed to deliver it to HQ?

She'd worry about that when she got there. Instead, she focused on the actual message itself. Holland was a key word. Tank too. Lots of them, Hogan had said. In Holland?

Mavis was so deep in thought that she bumped right into someone. With a thud, she fell to the ground.

"Oh, I am terribly sorry, my dear." Mavis looked up to see a man standing over her, his hand extended to help her up. She grabbed it and pulled herself up.

"Oh no, it's my-" Mavis' voice died as she saw his face. He looked awfully familiar. She tilted her head and studied him, trying to figure out where she had seen him. Oh, right. He was one of her tails. More specifically, he was one of the tails that was tailing her tail in order to tail her. Mavis shook her head. What an odd setup HQ had.

"It's my fault," Mavis finished when she realized he was looking at her with a curious expression. "I wasn't looking."

"Well, perhaps you ought to pay a bit more attention, my dear. Now, off you go, on your way." And with that, the man walked off. Mavis watched him go before starting on her way again.

It seemed a bit odd to her that he had gotten so close. After a few minutes, she looked behind her but the tail was nowhere in sight. In fact, he other tail was out of sight too. Either they had become a little more sneaky, or they had left her.

Mavis had no more time to dwell on it because she had reached HQ. Taking a deep breath, she straightened herself out the best she could- feeling out of place in her civilian clothes- and made her way up the steps.

"Morning, Private," she greeted the clerk at the front desk.

He looked up and gave her a confused look. "Corporal Newkirk? What are you doing here? I thought you-"

"You thought right. But it's rather important that I talk to Captain Sinclair immediately."

"What for?"

"I'm afraid I can only tell Captain Sinclair," Mavis apologized.

The private inspected her carefully before picking up his phone. "I'll call him up. Stay right where you are."

Mavis nodded and did as she was told. As she waited, she looked about the lobby, soaking in the atmosphere. It was busy but no more so than usual. What was unusual however, was that within the span of five minutes, she saw more big brass walk through than she usually saw within a week. Something big was up.

"Mavis?" Mavis was torn from her thoughts by Captain Sinclair who was making her way up to her. Straightening, she offered him a salute.

"Oh… sorry sir," she said sheepishly as she lowered her hand. "Force of habit, I'm afraid."

"No need to apologize. What brings you here?" Sinclair asked.

Mavis pulled the record out from under her arm and handed it to him. "I think I got this by mistake, sir."

Sinclair grabbed it and looked over it. He seemed confused at first but then a look of realization crossed his face. "That clears a few things up. We were sent a recording from your brother."

"Well, I'll trade you, sir."

"Of course," he said with a smile, which suddenly faded. "You didn't listen to it, did you?"

Mavis pulled at her fingers and gave him a sheepish look. In return, he arched an accusing eyebrow. "Well, to be fair, I did think it was from my brother."

Sinclair let out a frustrated sigh. "And did you trans- never mind, of course you did. What did it say?"

"Do you think this is the best place for that, sir?" Mavis asked as she scanned the lobby.

"You're right," Sinclair conceded. Placing a hand on the small of her back, he guided her through the lobby and into an empty room. "All right, what did it say?"

"You could always listen to it yourself," Mavis pointed out.

"I will. But I want your opinion of it. You always could crack Papa Bear's code the fastest."

"Well, I'm flattered sir."

"Don't be. I always assumed it was because the insane thought alike."

Mavis ignored the jab. "I think it's some sort of warning, sir," she explained as she reached into her bag. "I wrote down some of the key-" She suddenly stopped. Where was her notebook? She was sure she had put it into her bag. But if that were the case, then where was it.

"Mavis?" Sinclair asked when Mavis took her purse off her shoulder and dumped it out.

It wasn't there. The realization felt like a kick to the chest. But where had it gone? A feeling of dread crept over her. What if…

"Sir," Mavis breathed, her voice barely above a whisper, "I think we have a problem."

--

You know, when I first started this story, it was only supposed to be one chapter. And then it was only supposed to be little snippets about Papa Bear from Mavis' POV. But I think now it's all coming together in one long story line. Whether that's a good thing or a bad thing, well, that's up to you.


	11. Seeds of Paranoia

Sure. I start getting better, my computer starts getting sick. WORST!

--

On her hands and knees, Mavis rummaged through the dumped contents of her handbag

On her hands and knees, Mavis rummaged through the dumped contents of her handbag. Her notebook, in which she had written the key words of Hogan's coded message, was gone. She was sure she had put it in her handbag before she had left her flat.

"What do you mean?" Sinclair asked, also dropping to his knees to search through the items. "And what are we looking for?"

"My notebook. It's gone." Mavis stopped and looked at him helplessly. He was going to have her drawn and quartered for sure. "I think… I think someone took it."

"Who?"

"My tail. I bumped into him on the way over," she explained. "He must have taken it."

"That makes no sense," Sinclair countered.

No, Mavis suddenly thought, it didn't. How would he have known she had her notebook in the first place? And that it contained important information? And besides that, they were on the same side. Weren't they

A sudden chill crawled up Mavis' spine. Before, she had thought it was silly that HQ had put two tails on her, so what if they hadn't? What if the other tail had been issued by a different HQ?

But what would the Germans want with her? How did they know about her?

Her second tail had appeared not long after her brother's broadcast for Berlin Betty. What if the Germans had become suspicious of it? What if they knew it was code? Still didn't explain why they were tailing her.

Mavis was about to voice her concerns to Sinclair when there was a knock on the door. Clearing his throat, Sinclair got to his feet and opened it. A private was on the other side. "Yes?"

"Sir, I think you dropped this in the hall," the private said, handing over a small leather book.

Sinclair laughed as he took it. "Thank-you, Private," he said, shutting the door. He shook the notebook in his hand and looked down at Mavis. "Is this what you are looking for?"

Mavis looked from the notebook to Sinclair. "Yes," she managed.

Sinclair's expression changed from smug to concerned. "Are you all right? I half expected you to be the shade of a tomato, but you're frightfully pale."

"I-" She had been so terrifyingly sure of her conclusions that now, she couldn't take any comfort in the truth- that she had simply dropped her notebook. She met Sinclair's anxious gaze, wondering if she should tell him her theory anyway.

No. He would think she was round the bend. "I'm all right, sir," she finally said. "I just… feel so silly."

Sinclair chuckled and squatted beside her to help gather her things back up. "It happens to the best of us. Here." With everything back in her handbag, he got up and held out a hand for her. Slowly, she took it and pulled herself to her feet.

"I'm sorry for giving you such a fright," Mavis apologized as she brushed herself off. "It was just my imagination getting the best of me."

"That's certainly a nice change from your average curiosity getting the best of you," Sinclair said with a grin. Mavis rolled her eyes. "So what's in the recording?"

Shaking the unpleasant thoughts about her tail from her mind, she focused on the task at hand. "Right. I think it was a warning." She paused and bit her lip. "Are we planning anything in Holland?"

Sinclair looked at her suspiciously, which unnerved Mavis. Sinclair didn't think she was a spy, did he?" After all, he had argued with a general over it all in her favor. "That's not my area," Sinclair finally told her. "I don't know." His lips twitched. "What kind of a warning?"

Mavis half shrugged. "Without particulars, it's hard to say. But I think Hogan is asking for a few weeks before we do anything over there?" She searched Sinclair's face for any indications she might be on the right track, but got nothing. Maybe he didn't know. "Either he needs tank support, which I wouldn't put past him for asking, or there are German tanks in the area. Without it, the whole operation, whatever it may be, will be a failure." She shrugged again. "I'm sure whoever knows about this operation will be able to figure it out better than I can."

"Probably," Sinclair agreed, "but it wasn't a bad effort. If you were in on it, I'm sure you'd have this code cracked before the others."

Mavis arched an eyebrow and gave him a small smile. "Is that an offer, Captain?"

Sinclair just gave her a tight smile. "May I?" He held out his hand for Mavis' notebook. She gave it to him and he tore out the page with her notes. "I'll see this and this-" he held up the record- "get to the proper channels."

Mavis nodded. "That's why I brought it, sir." With that, she opened the door and was about to slip out when Sinclair reached over her and shut it again. She turned to face him, watching him in confusion. "Sir?"

Sinclair studied her for a moment before he smiled. "Did you forget our bargain?"

"Our bargain?" Mavis repeated.

"Hogan's recording in exchange for your brother's," Sinclair clarified after a moment. "Personally, I think you're getting the better end of it."

Mavis grinned. "Probably."

Sinclair nodded and opened the door. "Wait at the front desk. I'll get it for you."

After escorting her to the lobby, Sinclair made his way to the lift and disappeared. Mavis waited, watching the comings and goings of the lobby. She missed it. A lot. But it didn't seem likely that she would ever be part of it again.

"There you are," Sinclair announced as he came back into view. He handed her a record.

Mavis took it and tucked it under her arm. "Thank-you, sir."

"Not at all." He suddenly cleared his throat. "Off you go, then."

"Right. Good-bye Captain."

With a nod, Mavis turned to leave. "Mavis," Sinclair called, stopping her in her tracks. "If you turn out to be right about this, I'll see if I can talk to the general. It would be a shame to lose you."

"I appreciate it, sir."

"Mavis?"

She stopped again. "Sir?"

"You said your tail bumped into you?"

"I bumped into him," Mavis replied. "I wasn't paying attention to where I was going."

Sinclair looked lost in thought for a moment before he gave Mavis a curt nod and walked away.

Mavis watched him go before stepping out of HQ and made her way to the street.

A creepy feeling took hold of her as she walked home. She knew, of course, that she was being followed. But by how many people? She dared a glance around. Two. Neither was the one who had bumped into her. Was one German? Her skin crawled at the thought. Why were they tailing her? Did they know she used to be Goldilocks?

If they knew that, then they probably knew a lot more- like who Papa Bear was. And if they already knew who Papa Bear was, why did they need to follow her?


	12. Roses, Lilies and Pansies

Oh Mavis, you've been on the shelf for so long.

* * *

Bloody hell, now she was jumping at shadows! Her heart raced at the tiniest sounds, and she eyed every passing stranger with suspicion. It seemed like everyone was watching her, spying on her for their own nefarious reasons.

Of course, that was all crazy. As far as she could tell, there were really only four people following her. But seeing as how she was fairly certain that only two of them were authorized by Intelligence Headquarters, that didn't make her feel much better.

"You're just being paranoid," Mavis muttered to herself as she started polishing another glass. "Get a hold of yourself."

No matter how many times she told herself that, she still didn't believe it. She was positive that someone had stolen her notebook after she had mistakenly received that recording from Colonel Hogan. It would have been nothing for him to drop it in the hallway at HQ after looking through it.

But that had been a few weeks ago and nothing had happened since. So maybe it was time to put her paranoia to rest and get on with life. In no time at all, Christmas would be just around the corner and the war would be over. Then she wouldn't have to worry about whether she was unknowingly embroiled in a sinister bit of espionage.

"Mavis me luv, I'll be needing a bit of liquid courage before I head out," Mac said as he stumbled over to the bar.

"In trouble with the wife again, Mac?" Mavis asked.

Mac shivered and scowled. "That woman's a bloody dragon, she is. Spawned in hell itself."

"Then why did you marry her?" Mavis asked.

"Because you were too young for me," Mac said with a wink.

Mavis rolled her eyes and shoved a glass into his hands. "Go on then, you silly sod." Mac grinned and winked before staggering back to his mates.

Mavis couldn't help but smile. She actually didn't mind the drunken flirting. It was a sight better than the cold shoulders she had received immediately following Peter's broadcast for Berlin Betty. For a long while, she had been tainted by association. But now, while they were still sore at Peter, they had warmed back up to her. Mavis suspected her hotpot had something to do with that.

The thought of Berlin Betty's broadcast made Mavis' cheeks turn red. Just the other day, she had received a letter from Peter, dated after that fateful day. He had not mentioned a single thing about it. Not a word. No explanation, no apology, no nothing. And that made her a little angry, if only on principle.

Of course, Mavis didn't really need an explanation- she knew he hadn't been betraying his country. But he didn't know she knew that! As far as he knew, she was completely in the dark about his role as a saboteur and spy. And yet, he didn't feel the need to apologize or offer some sort of explanation. She was his sister, for pity sakes. He should've thought about how she felt after hearing the broadcast- he should have considered her worry and confusion- and had said something to put her mind at ease!

Although, to be completely fair, it was quite possible that Peter simply didn't think that she had heard it. After all, what would a good girl like her be doing listening to a Nazi broadcast? The short answer was that she wouldn't. Sure, Intelligence monitored the broadcast, but even if she was still working with Intelligence, Peter wouldn't know that- unless Colonel Hogan had told him.

But of course, she wasn't working with Intelligence anymore. It had been a complete accident that she had heard the broadcast.

And it wasn't as if Mavis had mentioned it in any of the many letters she had recently sent him. She had been half-tempted to confront him about it, but to what end? She knew he was innocent and there was no need to make him feel guilty about his fake betrayal.

Mavis sighed. In short, they would both ignore the whole broadcast. Mavis would let him believe she had never heard it and he would not have to apologize for something that had, in reality, helped the war effort.

"Evening there," a voice said, breaking Mavis out of her thoughts. Mavis looked up to see a young man slide onto a stool at the bar.

Mavis immediately went cold. She recognized him. It was the man she had bumped into the other day on the way to HQ. Her tail- one she suspected of being on the other side of the war.

For a moment, Mavis couldn't find her voice. What was he doing here? And what was she supposed to do now?

Forcing herself to remain calm, Mavis managed a small smile. "Evening. Wot can I get you?"

"I'm simply ravenous. Anything good to eat?"

The accent was sorely out of place in the eastside pub. If he were a spy, why wasn't he trying to blend in? Maybe he had figured she would recognize him, so there was no point in hiding. Mavis assumed this was a bold move for a spy. And spies didn't make bold moves like this for no reason, did they?

Oh bugger.

"How 'bout some hotpot?" Mavis asked, trying very hard to keep her voice even.

"Brilliant."

"Back in a tick," Mavis said, forcing a smile as she disappeared into the kitchen.

What to do, what to do? Perhaps she could ring up the captain, have him send someone over to… To what? There was a small, unlikely chance that this man was not a spy, just some poor bloke who happened to wander into her pub? And if he wasn't? Would the captain even believe her?

Mavis pulled on her fingers as she nervously paced back and forth for a moment. She didn't know what to do. She wasn't a ruddy spy! She was just a paranoid, ex-corporal who had too much imagination.

Taking a deep breath, Mavis quickly prepared a plate for the man and hurried back to the bar. "There you are." The man smiled and happily started on his dish. "You lost?" Mavis ventured after a moment of silence.

The man looked up, blinked, and then smiled brightly. "Do I look lost?"

"A bit. You don't quite fit in with this lot," she explained, jerking her thumb towards the other patrons.

"No, I suppose not. But I heard a rumor that if a man wanted something good to eat, he had to try the hotpot here." He took another bite of his food. "Looks like the rumors were true."

Mavis smiled tightly. "Hurrah. Care for a drink?"

"Just this, thank-you."

"Right." Mavis nodded and went back to polishing glasses, discreetly keeping an eye on her new guest. He didn't look her way at all, seemingly content with his food. But that did nothing to calm Mavis' racing heart.

The man suddenly paused and pointed his fork at her. "The roses bloom during the full moon."

That stopped Mavis dead and she nearly dropped a glass. The statement was so odd, so out of place that Mavis' instincts told her it was code. But for what? And why was he using it for her? Could it be that he thought she was a spy too? But which side did he thinks she was on?

Mavis licked her lips, her mind racing. The roses bloom during the full moon? She assumed she was supposed to say something back, but she had no idea what the rejoining sentence was and even if she did, did she want to say it to this fellow? No, probably not.

"Interesting," Mavis finally said nonchalantly before going back to polishing.

"Do you like roses?"

Mavis shrugged. "Lilies are prettier," she replied, trying to sound as casual as possible. It was possible, she supposed, that this was an honest question seeking an honest answer and she would look rather silly for ignoring him completely.

"Indeed," he said with a smirk before going back to his meal. Something about the look on his face made Mavis grow cold. She should have just kept her mouth shut. What exactly had she said to delight him so much?

Oh bugger!

"Mavis?"

Mavis gasped and whirled around. "Mr. Miller," Mavis managed, greeting the bartender.

"You all right, luv? Looks like you've seen a ghost."

Mavis glanced at the stranger at the bar and then back at the Miller. "Nothing like that, sir." She nodded slightly towards their guest. Miller arched an eyebrow and cocked his head to the side. "Not a ghost."

Miller nodded and went up to the bar and banged his hand on it. Their guest looked up, surprised. "Oi! Enjoying your food, mate?"

"It's quite delicious."

"Right then- out."

"Out?" the man stammered.

"Out."

"But… I…"

"Have cloth in your ears? I said out."

A dark look flashed across his face but it was quickly replaced by a more innocent look of confusion. "All right. All right then." He held his hands up and backed away from the bar. A moment later he had left the pub.

"All right, wot was that all about then?" Miller asked, turning back to Mavis, arms crossed over his chest.

"Well… I…"

"Don't need that kind 'round here," Charlie hollered from his regular table. Apparently he had noticed the exchange and was glad to be rid of the newcomer. "Bloody dandy!"

"A dandy with money in his pockets, no doubt," Miller said with a scowl. Finally he sighed and relaxed. "Don't need a bloke like that around anyway."

"My thoughts exactly," Mavis muttered under her breath.

"'Bout time for you to be heading home innit?"

Mavis glanced up at the wall clock. It certainly was. But she was in no hurry to leave. At least, not so soon after her unwanted friend had left. "I think I'll have a pint."

"Cor! You 'ear that mates! Mavis is 'aving a drink!" Charlie shouted. "Come on over here then, luv!"

Mavis tossed her apron onto a hook and joined the group of men at their table. It wasn't something she would normally do, but she wanted to put some time between her and the spy- and Mavis was now sure that was what he was.

They wasted over an hour telling her stories about their time back in the first war. Sometimes she thought these men forgot that she had heard all their stories a million times since she was young.

"Blimey, look at the time," Mac finally said, peering at his watch. "I'm done for, mates."

"The old woman will carve you up, she will," Charlie agreed with a nod.

"Better be off, Mac," George added.

Mac groaned and slid out of his seat. "Will you all attend me funeral?"

Charlie laughed. "I'll put flowers on your coffin! Pretty little pansies!"

"Sod off, mate." Mac straightened himself and headed towards the door. "'Bout past your bedtime, Mavis. Come on, I'll walk you 'ome."

"I'm not a little girl anymore. I don't have a bedtime," Mavis pointed out.

Mac seemed to consider that for a moment. "Right you are. Then you can walk me 'ome. Maybe you can talk the dragon into letting me off nice and easy."

"She'd have to talk sweeter than honey to pull that off!" Charlie joked.

"If anyone can do it, it's Mavis. You're like a daughter to that witch. No offence intended, of course."

"You're bloody terrible," Mavis accused. Despite all his talk, Mac's wife was actually a pleasant sort of woman. Mavis remembered her visiting with her mother when she was a little girl. But she also remembered that Peter had once unravelled her shawl and had used the yarn to play cat's cradle. She hadn't been so pleasant then. "All right then, off we go."

Together they made their way to the door. Mac tripped more than once, nearly bringing Mavis down with him. Mavis clapped him on the chest. "Come on then, old man, up the steps we go."

"You're too kind, Mavis."

"Believe me, I know."

Somehow, they made it out of the pub and onto the street. Mac didn't live too far. Mavis would get him there and hand him over to his wife.

"Excuse me, Miss?"

The now familiar voice of her tail came from the shadows. Mavis immediately tensed but said nothing as she continued along her way. She gripped her purse a little tighter, intending on swinging it at any attacker if she had to. She really ought to consider slipping a brick in there the next time she went out.

"Sir?" the man tried again after receiving no response. "Excuse me, I believe you dropped this."

Mac stumbled to a stop and whirled around, letting go of Mavis. "Wot you say th-"

Without warning, a fist came out of the shadows and knocked Mac on the chin, sending him to the ground.

Oh bugger!

"I was really rather hoping we could talk nicely. There's no need for violence," the man said, stepping out of the shadows. Mavis balled her fists and took a step back. She had been in her fair share of fights in her life. The man was bigger than she was but she was sure she could get in a few solid punches. The man sighed and pulled a gun out of his pocket. "Really, Miss Newkirk, you'd best come with us quietly."

Us? Oh bugger, there was more than one.

Mavis didn't have a chance to fight before someone grabbed her from behind and held a cloth over her face. She struggled but she knew it was no use. The world spun and quickly went dark.


	13. Between a Rock and a Hard Place

The first thing Mavis became aware of was the sound of static. The annoying sound tickled her ears, drawing her back into consciousness. The next thing she noticed were voice talking softly not too far away.

Mavis immediately tensed as her memory returned to her and she realized the voices belonged to the men who had kidnapped her.

Kidnapped her? Oh bugger! She had been kidnapped!

Mavis fought back a tidal wave of panic. It was a losing battle, but she did keep her head enough to realize she should try to maintain illusion that she was still unconscious. Maybe she could buy herself some time while she figured a way out of this mess.

First thing she did was take stock of herself physically. Except for the pounding in her head, she seemed unharmed. She wasn't tied up either and whatever she was laying on was comfortable enough- a sofa perhaps. So they didn't intend to kill her. Hadn't the one man mentioned that they had just wanted to talk? But about what?

What a silly question. They obviously wanted to talk about Papa Bear. What else would a pair of German spies want to talk to her about? They certainly didn't kidnap her to have tea and talk about the weather.

Mavis started to sweat. How much did they think she knew about Papa Bear? Did they suspect her of knowing his identity? Is that why they had brought her here, to find that out?

But if that was all they wanted to know, surely they were better people to kidnap than herself. Captain Sinclair for starters- he certainly knew more about Papa Bear than she did. Blimey, even one of the other girls who were currently filling in as Goldilocks- or rather, Mama Bear- would be a better choice than she was.

Either way, whatever they wanted to know, Mavis wasn't sure she could keep it hidden from them. She was stubborn of course, but she certainly was no spy. If questioning turned to more persuasive forms of interrogation, she and all her secrets were done for.

Maybe she could slip away before they noticed her. They seemed involved in their conversation. It suddenly dawned on her that she could learn something from paying attention to what they were saying. But then she realized that they weren't speaking English.

Germans. She'd been right. Hurrah.

"Ah, Miss Newkirk- you're awake."

What? How had they known that?

"Oh, don't bother pretending. You have been awake for at least five minutes now."

There was no point in pretending, she supposed. Slowly she opened her eyes. The lights were awfully bright though and she quickly shut them again. A moment later she tried again, blinking a few times before sitting up. She grabbed her head, which was pounding away and groaned.

"Here you are," one of her captors said, holding out a glass of water and two pills. Mavis eyed the offerings suspiciously. "We don't want to kill you, Miss Newkirk. And you must have a rather nasty headache."

Grudgingly, Mavis took the offered items. Maybe she could smash the glass and use it as a weapon- she had seen enough bar fights to know the damage a shard of glass could do to someone. But of course that was ridiculous- these men had guns and she was sure they would use them if she tried anything like that.

Mavis finished her water and her captor took the glass back and sat on a chair opposite from her. Another man stood in the doorway of the room, arms crossed over his chest. He didn't look too impressed.

There was a long moment of silence. Neither man seemed in too much of a hurry. Perhaps they were waiting for her to speak. Maybe they thought if they were silent for long enough, she would tell them everything they wanted to know.

The silence stretched on and Mavis was determined that she would not be the one to break it, no matter how curious she was about why she was there. Certainly it wouldn't hurt to ask them why they had kidnapped her. And what had happened to Mac? Had they killed him?

No. She was going to keep her mouth shut. Once they got her talking, who knew what they could wheedle out of her. Her curiosity- which was the root of all her problems, now that she thought about it- would have to wait.

"I'm sure you're aware that we have been following you for some time, Miss Newkirk."

"Have you?" She mentally cursed herself for replying. Keep your bloody hole shut, her mind screamed. But maybe she could convince them that she really was oblivious. If they suspected she knew who they were then it would lend credence to the idea that she had information they wanted. "Why would you do that?"

"I believe we should be honest with each other, Miss Newkirk," the man said. "So I will tell you that we tend to keep tabs on all Intelligence officers."

"Then why am I here? I was only a corporal," Mavis pointed out before she could stop herself.

"And you were really nothing more than a footnote attached to Captain Sinclair and his department. Until you were suddenly discharged and an Allied agent began shadowing you. _That_ caught our interest."

Mavis cursed under her breath. Damn HQ. They could have left her alone and she wouldn't be in this mess. But no, they had to suspect her of treason or espionage or something ridiculous like that and had inadvertently drawn attention to her.

Too late, Mavis realized that her reaction to the news simply confirmed to her captor that her discharge was far from innocent.

"After a little digging, we discovered that you were discharged only after a meeting that included General O'Malley, Colonel Wimbley, Major Shawcross and Captain Sinclair, to name a few. Now, why would so many officer need to convene, simply to discharge a lowly corporal?"

"Haven't the foggiest," Mavis ground out.

"And why would they attach an agent to you afterwards?" he continued. Mavis just glared at him. "Unless, of course, there was more to your discharge." He paused and Mavis said nothing. "Do you want to know what I think?"

"Oh yes, please," Mavis snapped, digging her nails into the sofa cushion.

"We believe it was all a ruse and you are still an agent for Intelligence."

Mavis blinked, caught off guard by the incorrect assumption. So far, he had been spot on. Was this really what he thought or was it some sort of trick? "And what makes you think that?" Mavis ventured tentatively, curious to hear his reasoning.

"Aside from the two agents still attached to you- who I assume are for your protection- the other week, you were delivering a message to Intelligence Headquarters about developments in Holland. If you were truly discharged, why would you have such information? I think that you still have some contact with Papa Bear and perhaps others in your network and you were let go in order to work more efficiently."

Mavis snorted. How absurd. Efficient? She wasn't a spy, but even she could see that this system he suggested would have to be the most ridiculous way possible to conduct espionage activities.

"And then tonight you confirmed my suspicions when you answered the recognition code from two weeks ago which must mean you still have contact with Intelligence."

Mavis' eyes widened. What was he talking about? She didn't know that. "W-what?"

"Though we don't know the exact phrases we did know that roses and lilies were part of the code two weeks ago."

Oh bugger! Of all the things she could have said, she had said exactly the right- and therefore the wrong- thing. Of all the rotten bit of luck!

"A coincidence," Mavis said truthfully though she knew he wouldn't take it as such.

"Of course, I am curious as to who gave you the information on Holland, but we can get to that later. Plenty of time."

Mavis didn't like the sound of that. Suddenly, something he had said earlier came back to her. "Those two agents who were following me. You must know that they will know that you took me and they're-"

"They won't be a problem, Miss Newkirk. They are both enjoying a swim in the Thames."

Mavis paled. This was definitely serious business then. "What do you want with me?" Mavis managed in a quivering voice as panic suddenly strangled and killed her composure.

"While at HQ, you were in communication with Papa Bear. You know the radio frequencies and codes needed to contact him. And I'm sure he'll recognize your voice. We simply need you to send a message to him, just as you would before your discharge."

"Sod off!" Mavis said defiantly, though she didn't feel quite as brave as she sounded. "I won't help you."

"You will, Miss Newkirk," the man in the doorway growled.

"To quote an American film, 've hav vays to make you talk'," the first man said, playing up a phoney German accent with a smirk. Although Mavis supposed it really wasn't so phoney after all.

"You plan to kill me? Torture me?" Mavis asked, her stomach tying itself into knots at the thought.

"You must understand that for now, you are too valuable to harm," her captor soothed. "Your brother, on the other hand…" He threw up his hands with a shrug and sighed. "He's a prisoner of war, is he not? It would be a shame if he were shot while attempting to escape. Or, worse, if the Gestapo brought him in for questioning about an escape attempt."

Mavis' insides turned to ice. Peter.

Well this was certainly a sticky wicket. If she didn't co-operate, then Peter would suffer. But, on the other hand, if she did co-operate and ended up betraying Papa Bear, then Peter would suffer anyway.

If there was one bright spot in this whole catastrophe it was that if they thought using Peter as leverage was an effective threat, then perhaps they didn't know about his connection to Papa Bear. That was one secret safe. For now.

But what about Peter's message on Berlin Betty? They had to know about that. Had they connected it with Papa Bear? Maybe they did know about Peter's espionage activity and they were simply giving her an impossible decision for the hell of it.

"So, you see, you must co-operate with us."

Mavis mulled that over for a moment and studied her captors. The one in the doorway was becoming more and more impatient and the one across from her just seemed smug. She wanted to punch the look right off his face. But that wouldn't solve anything. It would just make her situation worse.

Maybe if she stalled for time, it would give someone a chance to find her. Surely someone had stumbled upon Mac by now- whether he was dead or alive- and had started looking for her. In fact, they were probably already searching; it had been long enough, hadn't it? She just had to wait for them to track her down. Somehow.

"Perhaps I should inform you that we're on a schedule," the man across from her said easily, as if reading her thoughts. "If Papa Bear is not where we need him to be in two hours, the order has already been given to deal with your brother." The man rocked forward in his chair and then rose to his feet. "Time is on my side, Miss Newkirk. Your brother's time, however, is quickly running out."

"And once we cannot use him for leverage, we'll have to resort to other methods to persuade you," the man in the doorway added.

"I'm not scared of you."

"Yes you are," the first spy said. "You're scared for yourself, but you're more scared for your brother. Let me tell you a little about the treatment he will receive from the Gestapo."

The man casually began explaining the most horrific things Mavis had ever heard. How could someone do that to another person? Surely he was joking. He had to be joking.

No. He wasn't. He was too matter-of-fact. Mavis' stomach churned. She couldn't let Peter go through that. But more importantly, she couldn't let the other men in Hogan's organization go through that either.

What to do? Either way, Mavis lost. Peter lost. But maybe Mavis could keep the casualty count down.

Her mind was made up. She wouldn't send the message.


End file.
